Cloey

 

 C’mon.  I’ve been standing here, money in hand, for 20 minutes—

wish there was an open seat…God; Scooby-Doo couldn’t match-up to that dog’s breath.

I’m not even sure that’s a costume!  Christ I’m a bitch.  Why am I being a bitch?  It’s

 Halloween, I should be enjoying myself—DAMN!  What do I have to do to get a drink

around here?  Take off my panties and non-challantly toss them in his face like he’s Eddie

fuckin’ Van-Halen?!  Ok, why does Waldo’s personal hooker get served before me?...Oh,

right, why on earth am I asking such a silly question.  Hey, maybe that’s why I have the attitude

of Medusa’s hair-do…everyone else is drunk and dumb, and I’m still waitin’ on Dicky McBall-

Sack, the one-headed bartender!  Shit.  Is this place’s policy “sluts slurp first” or what?  Whoa

dude, so not feelin’ the hobbit love.  Well, that was interesting…he wasn’t bad looking, I’m just

not in the fucking mood for pleasantries.  If I wasn’t being forced to play night watch for the

town drunks, I might’ve been more inclined to flirt back…instead of being such an ice-queen. 

God, finally; it’s about time this dill-weed took my money.  Of course, he couldn’t see me

without all my legs and half my ass hangin’ out.  Shit, I guess a medieval-style gown, with my

girls bouncin’ half-way out of it didn’t do it for him.  No taste.  No mystery.  Men don’t even

have to think about anything anymore—huh, probably ‘cause most women don’t want to think

about much either.  And then they wonder why every guy just strings ‘em and leaves ‘em;

because some of us don’t make them work for it anymore, so then they just get used.  Ok, Ken-

doll, drink on its way...or is there a plastic mound for his brain, too?  Jesus, ‘bout time…no, the

Tequila Rose is supposed to sit on top of the Butter shots—damn-it, whatever.  At least I have a

fuckin’ drink; now I can down this and maybe have some fun with the rest of the drunken freak

show.                  

 

    This is actually a monologue that I wrote when I was in my 20s, and the character that I bestowed the name "Cloey" upon is actually me. These were the thoughts and feelings that were running through my head one Halloween night, when I was out with friends. I could be a spit-fire in my younger years, yet, despite the hell-cat type thoughts, that's all they were, simply thoughts, never coming from that point, through to my mouth. I had a lot of anger mixed with a good deal of fear back then, and even though I may never have actually said these things, looking back, I feel as though those around me could see the chip I was carrying. This monologue, and the 20-something me came to mind immediately as I watched the video on the impact of D&D and the community that lives within the game play. As I listened to so many people speak of how this game allows them a place to release emotion, experience a freedom, and has even saved their lives, I thought of this monologue, and of me, in the pain I was going through then. I struggled through a very abusive relationship at that time (my first of two relationships of that kind which were utter nightmares), and I learned how to fall silent, how to keep my pain internalized. And when I wasn't merely silent, to say and do whatever I could to get them to stop. Stop calling me worthless, stupid, crippled, to stop throwing things and punching holes into walls, to just stop. And while in this monologue there is a great deal of sarcasm and humor, it was all there to hide a very deeply felt pain. Also, as I look back on this, having learned all that I have, I see the direct connotations, the explicit use of bodily imagery, not only taking on the form of humor, but in taking on the form of stereotyping. I was young, not feeling very good about myself, and I was categorizing, placing myself and the people around me that night into little boxes of what I was seeing them, as well as myself, as embodying. The ideas and theories in what makes up Queer Theory are so all encompassing, so impacting, I am grateful to have been a part of this experience this semester, because as I look back to that scared, angry kid I was, and I see the person I am now, I know some of it is owed to what has been taught to me. I am a Crip cisgender, I have epilepsy, I am blind in my left eye, I am resilient, I am a come-back-kid. I am beautiful in my skin, as I am, and as I continue to grow.  

Artist Spotlight: Michael Sharkey

After last week's dive into queer artistry, I felt compelled to look at other artists doing incredible work in tandem with their experience as part of the LGBTQIA+ community. 

Michael Sharkey is a photographer, writer, and videographer living in Brooklyn, NY working to illustrate the raw and authentic with his fascinating work Queer Kids. The series began in 2006 and is an amalgamation of photos and interviews that dive into what it means to simply exist as queer. Subjects are presented with strength, humor, and confidence that givers a fresh and unapologetic glance into identity. 

Raul from Queer Kids

Sharkey spent 8 years going across Europe and North America documenting both faces and narratives with hopes of capturing the defiance and beauty of a group stigmatized by the after effects of the AIDS epidemic and the influence of the religious community in both government and in society. He does so as a child of the 90's and as someone who draws continual inspiration from both diversity and the stories of each individual in the face of both glory and discrimination. 

You can look at works like Queer Kids and other fantastic series at Michael Sharkey's Website. 

hello tv character, where did you get that?

where'd you get those beautiful eyes ?
my mother
and where'd you get those lips ?
my mother
and the loneliness ?
my mother
and the broken heart ?
my mother
and what about the absence, where'd you get that ?
my father

and where did you get the kill your gay trope from?

society 

I'm leaving the West

A Poem inspired by Pose, Kiki, and Paris is Burning

I’m leaving the West 
where you can see the wind
sandy green hills and highways 
like a rattlesnakes underbelly

I’m dreaming of the East 
with the ballrooms of love 
and the city from the pier at night 
like a trophy lining the sky

I’m going out East 
where love is like butter 
and families are placed and held
like a soft puzzle

Bee Sting

 I was just seven years old when I was stung 

by all those bees in the rose bush 

on the side of the house and 

you thought I was laughing but I was crying 

and I sat up on the big freezer 

while you dolloped baking soda paste on my knees 

and it was so quiet in the back room 

and cool like it was night already

six bee stings at seven years old 

and you told me they probably died

‘it’s only natural 

a bee will die 

if it loses its sting’

and I said a prayer for the bees 

it was all i knew 

and i asked, so kindly 

not to lose my sting

I was just 17 years old when I was raped

by that boy in the cabin in the snow

outside of town during the storm and you never knew what to say about that

and I laid next to her in that bed

while he touched me in my anaesthetized state

and it was so quiet in the back room 

and cold like winter was crying 

my second rape at seventeen years old 

and you told me he probably didn't mean it 

        

                                'it's only natural 

                                            a boy will sting 

                                                           if he loses his control 

and I said a prayer for the boys 

it was all I knew 

and I asked, so kindly 

not to lose control 

I wrote the first half of this poem a long while ago, and finished the second half after reading "Stones in My Pockets, Stones in My Heart" by Eli Clare. I reflected on many of the messages I was given as a kid surrounding gender, violence, and sexuality, and paired two of my experiences. 

Thank you. 

Five contemporary poetry collections, written by and for LGBTQ+ people

1. Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell - This is just one part of a brilliant four-part series of poems written by a queer writer from Sydney, Australia. Adorned with the cutest little jellyfish drawings, this collection features ten sections that are separated by a range of sentiments and feelings. In general, the poems are about heartbreak, love, and raw emotion. Peppernell encourages people to read the different sections when they need them the most, rather than in order from front to back. For context, the first section is titled, “If you are dreaming of someone,” and the second to last section is titled, “If you need a reason to stay.” This was the first collection of poetry I ever purchased and it still resonates with me so deeply. I truly cannot recommend it enough. 

2. Take Me With You by Andrea Gibson - This collection was first published in 2018, right after I graduated high school and right after I came out to my family. During such a terrifying time in my life, Gibson’s (they/them) poetry spoke directly to my soul. Broken into three parts, this book discusses love, gender, politics, family, sexuality, and forgiveness. Many of the individual poems also feature illustrations from artist Sarah J. Coleman, and each one only enhances the words that it accompanies. Within this collection, reader’s see genuine love, heartbreak, fear, anger, hope, longing, and so much more. For those interested, Gibson is also an outstanding spoken/slam poet. Their work always strives to deconstruct gender norms, politics, and more, and they are an exceptional example of what queer theory strives to accomplish. 

3. yesterday i was the moon by Noor Unnahar - Yet another powerful collection of poetry, this book has uneven and ragged edges--quite literally, the pages are unevenly cut and I don’t know if that was intentional but I would like to think that it was an artistic choice. The writer is a young Pakistani woman who is also a multi-medium artist, and she explains that all of her art is laced with poetry. The poems follow a path from teenager to adulthood, while also grappling with love, emotional loss, heritage, broken homes, self discovery, and cultural background. This collection also transcends any concept of normal and whether it’s a two-line or a thirty-line poem, there is something for everyone in her words. 

4. DROPKICK romance by Cyrus Parker - This collection is implicitly divided into two sections, with the first half featuring poems about a toxic, long-distance relationship and the latter half detailing the journey of learning to love again. With such candor, this collection highlights the realities of violence and emotional abuse in queer relationships, which tends to be a taboo subject in contemporary discussion. If y’all are interested in a funny quirk about the author, they are a self-described “pro-wrestler-turned-poet” and outside of their writing, they hope to “dropkick the gender binary.” Circling back though, within these poems, Parker’s words illustrate the progression from pure exhaustion and devastation to optimism and confidence. It is a must read for anyone who has suffered at the hands of a harmful relationship.   

5. Junk by Tommy Pico - This book is a single poem, rather than a collection, and it is written as a stream-of-consciousness. It breaks all the rules of poetry and it explores queerness and the intersections of being an indigenous person. Between discussions surrounding queerness, politics, cultural erasure, and more, Pico finds room to still mention Janet Jackson and chili cheese Fritos (which will make way more sense after reading). I specifically recommend this book to queer and questioning men and nonbinary people of color, this poem was meant for them. One piece that resonated with me was his mention of the dangers associated with online dating for LGBTQ+ people and how healthy skepticism can be life saving, especially for underage queer folks. Other than that one note, I would argue that this book is best read without a summary because no description will ever do it justice. Truly a brilliant piece of work. 

When I was Little

 I remember going home from school one day after hearing about a show called "RuPaul's Drag Race". 

So I sat down, pulled out my laptop and started watching an episode.

I remember thinking to myself wow I wish I could do makeup like these people. 

Watching drag queens do their makeup and make costumes was the first time I really thought to myself that it did not matter what I looked like I could do anything I wanted. 

First Date

 

First Date

 

 13

I was so excited

I had a new outfit

Green Winnie the Pooh top and matching skirt

I remember the empty parking lot

at the mall

…

 

Home

I’m safe now

I told her what happened

but she didn’t let me finish

The word

“slut”

 

she locked herself in her room

and all I knew

was that what happened

made me

the word

 

The next time I said nothing

13

16

25

Best to say nothing

 

What does the pain

or the shame

matter

to a slut?

Act Your Age, But At 5.

I never understood the whole "Act your age" thing. Even as a little kid my favorite depictions of adults were those that never lost their sense of play. Wether that be through art, occupation, demeanor, or even outlook I have never once believed that losing your ability to play was a good thing. 

I was struck by a shared sense of play when I was flipping through an issue of Juxtapose, an art magazine dedicated to the emerging artists of all walks. In this issue they covered an artist by the name of Carlos Rodriguez, a painter and ceramicist who focuses his lens to the innocent, playful nature of both queer sexuality and the tenderness of growing up as such. His depictions of man are akin to what you'd find in a children's book. Exaggerated noses, smiling animals, and playful scenes of shared joy. 

Costumbres Amorosas de los Animales (The Loving Habits of Animals)

What strikes me as so beautiful and chaotic about these paintings is both the sureness of the man, as in a direct contrast to the depictions of queer life we usually recognize. This work conveys the happiness and confidence that's often lost within queer narratives. There is no shame in an exposed penis, there are no strange looks, and the sexual nature of the body is stripped as being just another part of the body. Things are playful, and they convey love and the exploitation of sexuality through play. 

Costumbres Amorosas de los Animales (The Loving Habits of Animals)

Carlos remarks on his innocent depictions as an artist as being a personal telling of truth to the human experience as well as the queer experience. Though life is hardly ever predictable, the work he does strives to convey the vulnerable and beautiful nature of existence even in instances where things are not as innocent as they seem.