Ever hear of Sylvia Rivera? Or Marsha P. Johnson? We wouldn't even have marriage equality today without the hard work of brave trans women, especially trans women of color.
Ugh just going to c/p because this whole ‘you owe your life to trans women!’ thing is so tired. Also, theres an entire history of LGB activism BEFORE and AFTER stonewall, crazy I know. I know you’ve probably only heard about stonewall from your trans friends and saw the movie, but the trans community loves to trans people that weren’t trans.
Marsha P Johnson, he identified countless times through out his life (including in an interview 10 days before his death) that he was a GNC gay man and preferred masculine pronouns and names. “Marsha P. Johnson was not a trans woman. He was in a documentary ten days before he died where he said “I’m a man”. In the 60s and 70s, he identified as a “gay transvestite”. His close friends used both male and female pronouns and he didn’t take offense to either. He didn’t even live as “Marsha” all of the time, he went back and forth between living as Malcolm and living as “Marsha”. Sylvia Rivera wasn’t a trans woman either. In 1971 he called himself a “transvestite” and a “half-sister”. He wrote an essay titled “Transvestites: Your Half Sisters and Half Brothers of the Revolution” where he says that “Transvestites are homosexual men and women who dress in clothes of the opposite sex.” In an interview in 1995 with Randy Wicker and in a 2002 essay titled “Queens In Exile, The Forgotten Ones”, he variously calls himself a “gay man”, a “gay girl” (probably in the “gurl” sense, not the female sense), and a “drag queen.” there are several people who said she wasn’t even there, including Marsha P Johnson. Stormé DeLarverie, a black, butch lesbian, was actually widely reported and witnessed to be the person who incited the riots. Marsha P. Johnson and her roommate were adamant Sylvia Rivera wasn’t at Stonewall during the uprising. Miss Major Griffin-Gacy now says neither Marsha nor Sylvia were there.
In 1964, the United States Information Agency (USIA) hired educational filmmaker Gary Goldsmith to make a documentary about how blind persons were treated within the United States. The Soviets portrayed Americans as uncaring when it came to disabled individuals, so a simple, straightforward film showing American organizations caring for the blind would counteract this negative messaging. The film would be made for and distributed to foreign audiences through the USIA’s information centers in more than a hundred nations.
The USIA recruiter explained they wanted a film about the treatment of the blind “to counteract Soviet propaganda portraying the United States as a heartless society that exploited the weak and had no support for people in need. They wanted to show that people with disabilities had government support.” The contract was for a ten minute documentary on American organizations that helped blind persons. As Goldsmith conducted research into this area, though, the project became far more interesting.
The project changed as Goldsmith conducted research. Instead of providing a broad look at the treatment of the blind in the United States, the resulting product, Born a Man, told the remarkable story of Jack Polston. Polston had recovered from an accident that blinded him and resumed his previous career as an electrician. Despite seemingly focusing on one person, Polston’s rehabilitation and life is representative of a larger movement supported by the National Federation of the Blind to promote legislative actions, training programs, and other efforts that would give blind persons greater mobility and more socioeconomic opportunities.
In 1995, PBS ran a lavish ten-part documentary called American Cinema whose final episode was devoted to “The Edge of Hollywood” and the increasing influence of young independent filmmakers-the Coens, Carl Franklin, Q. Tarantino, et al. It was not just unfair, but bizarre, that David Lynch’s name was never once mentioned in the episode, because his influence is all over these directors like white on rice. The Band-Aid on the neck of Pulp Fiction’s Marcellus Wallace-unexplained, visually incongruous, and featured prominently in three separate setups-is textbook Lynch. As are the long, self-consciously mundane dialogues on foot massages, pork bellies, TV pilots, etc. that punctuate Pulp Fiction’s violence, a violence whose creepy-comic stylization is also Lynchian. The peculiar narrative tone of Tarantino’s films-the thing that makes them seem at once strident and obscure, not-quite-clear in a haunting way-is Lynch’s; Lynch invented this tone. It seems to me fair to say that the commercial Hollywood phenomenon that is Mr. Quentin Tarantino would not exist without David Lynch as a touchstone, a set of allusive codes and contexts in the viewers midbrain. In a way, what Tarantino has done with the French New Wave and with Lynch is what Pat Boone did with rhythm and blues: He’s found (ingeniously) a way to take what is ragged and distinctive and menacing about their work and homogenize it, churn it until it’s smooth and cool and hygienic enough for mass consumption. Reservoir Dogs, for example, with its comically banal lunch chatter, creepily otiose code names, and intrusive soundtrack of campy pop from decades past, is a Lynch movie made commercial, i.e., fast, linear, and with what was idiosyncratically surreal now made fashionably (i.e., “hiply”) surreal.
–David Foster Wallace on Quentin Tarantino and David Lynch
kouao where they share a small apartment in new york city. that’s it. that’s the AU.
I just wanna watch a ten hour documentary on this lovely gay couple who mutually supports and loves each other to death as they go about their daily business. we get to see them play-dighting and kissing good morning and pecks on the cheek on their way out the door and grocery shopping AND WATCHING NETFLIX TOGETHER and then their 7 year anniversary when they actually get dressed up for each other and go on a cute understated date and it’s sickeningly romantic and gross because they just hold each other’s hand the whole time and talk and look into the others’ eyes and then they go home and look through old photo albums from their childhood together and one of them leans over to snuggle and they fall asleep like that THAT’S IT IT’S LITERALLY THE MOST BORING FILM BUT I WOULD FUCKING WATCH IT BECAUSE KOUJACKIE AND AOBS DESERVE TO LOVE EACH OTHER AND HAVE A BEAUTIFUL UNDERSTATED LIFE FULL OF LOVE