Shows like Faking It are ushering in an era of (pretty, well-lit, and ok, largely whitewashed) queer normalcy on TV. Is this new normal here to stay?
I have this thing with MTV teen shows where they all look kind of shiny and plastic, and the characters don’t really get fully fleshed out, and the loud promo-intro part kind of gives me epilepsy. (You know, basically Glee after Season 1.)
Keeping up with queer tv used to be as simple as watching Buffy once a week and renting Queer as Folk from the video store on weekends. Now it’s a full time job.
Willow Rosenberg went gay my freshman year of high school. I didn’t even watch Buffy regularly yet, but I happened to catch the episode when Tara tells Willow “I am, you know — yours,” and Willow blows out a candle.
Do you ever have one of those days that just…transcends?
It’s been a hard month. A death in the family, a deep rift with a close friend. And I still don’t know that many people in the community here (most of the ones I do know are ex-girlfriends). Sometimes I can feel pretty alone.
Coming out can feel totally unimaginable. Until, one day, it doesn’t anymore.
Sometime last summer, I was chatting with my aunt about my grandmother’s abusive marriage. My aunt once asked her mother why, when her husband was bullying the family, she didn’t just pack up and leave. My grandmother explained that she considered it, that she tried to imagine it, but “it just didn’t feel like an option.”
“She scissored the curls away, and – toms, grow easily sentimental over their haircuts, but I remember this sensation very vividly – it was not like she was cutting hair, it was as if I had a pair of wings beneath my shoulder-blades, that the flesh had all grown over, and she was slicing free…”
Has everyone’s favorite gothic lesbian author lost her mojo?
Once upon a time, I wrote a writer’s love letter to Sarah Waters. It was terribly overwrought. “You have rewritten the past with me in it,” I gushed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite true; after all, I wouldn’t last an hour as a rent boy in London in 1890. But Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith were queer answers to the books I