Link Round Up: September 4-11

Posted on September 12, 2012 by Danika Ellis

AfterEllen posted Your New School Library: Malinda Lo, Lisa Jenn Bigelow, and Marisa Calin.

Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian posted Back to School: Ivan E. Coyote, Writer-in-Residence at Western U in London, ON.

Lambda Literary posted

The Outer Alliance posted WorldCon! Hugos! Interesting things!

“Beyond Judy Blume: Four New YA Books with LGBT Characters” was posted at Bitch Magazine.

Amber Dawn was interviewed at Straight about her new book How Poetry Saved My Life.

Sarah Diemer (aka Elora Bishop) & Jenn Diemer posted

Malinda Lo posted

Catherine Lundoff posted Chicon7 Resource list from LGBTQ in SF/F.

An excerpt from Lee Lynch‘s The Raid was posted at SheWired.

Fist of the Spider Woman edited by Amber Dawn was reviewed by Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian.

Being Emily by Rachel Gold was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

The Trees in the Field by J.E. Knowles was reviewed Lambda Literary.

Silver Moon by Catherine Lundoff was reviewed at She-Wolf.

Glass Houses by Laura J. Mixon was reviewed at SFFic.

Three by Annemarie Monahan was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

The Midnight Hunt by L.L. Raand was reviewed at She-Wolf.

First Spring Grass Fire by Rae Spoon was reviewed at National Post.

Heiresses of Russ 2012: The Year’s Best Lesbian Speculative Fiction edited by Connie Wilkins and Steve Berman was reviewed Lambda Literary.

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson was reviewed at Tales from the Reading Room.

Guest Lesbrarian Lindy Pratch reviews One in Every Crowd by Ivan E. Coyote

Posted on September 11, 2012 by Danika Ellis

Ivan E. Coyote’s autobiographical stories are especially chosen for a teen audience in the collection One in Every Crowd. I was pleased to encounter many of my favourites from previous collections. In the same way that I like listening to some songs over and over, it’s nice to read a good story more than once. I don’t usually allow myself this pleasure, since I don’t often reread books. (Mostly because there are too many new books to get to.)

“No Bikini” — about not being trusted with a two-piece bathing suit as a child — is in here. So is “The Red Sock Circle Dance” — about a friend’s child who started crossdressing when he was still a toddler. There are also three more stories about this boy, Francis, and it’s nice to see him get older through Coyote’s eyes. In “Imagine a Pair of Boots,” Coyote talks about gender pronouns, saying she doesn’t have a preference because neither one fits her: “she pinches a little and he slips off me too easily.”

Coyote writes about her childhood in Whitehorse, Yukon, and about her current home in Vancouver. Many of the newer pieces are about Coyote’s storytelling performances in schools across Canada. Her anti-bullying message is so important, as she explains in “As Good as We Can Make It”:

Bullies grow up — their behaviour gets modified and sometimes their language gets slicked over with education — and they become the political, financial, and social arbiters of life as we know it. I bet you any money that Prime Minister Stephen Harper was a bully in school, and don’t we all wish now that someone had nipped him in the bud before it was too late for Canada.

(Yes, I certainly do.) Coyote speaks directly to young butches later on in the same essay. “Do not cave into the pressure from the queer community to fit in, either. Make your own decisions, and trust your own heart. Being butch is not just a bus stop on the highway to transitioning.”

Twenty years ago, I sang in Edmonton Vocal Minority, a gay and lesbian community choir. One of the other altos always wore a dress shirt and skinny tie. She was a little more than 5 feet tall and totally butch. During a break in rehearsal one day, when she complained that customers at the electronic store where she worked always called her “sir,” one of the other lesbians suggested that it might be because she wore men’s clothing. The petite butch was rightfully indignant: “They’re not men’s clothes, they are my clothes.”

Gender nonconformists are teachers, whether they choose that role or not. Coyote’s storytelling has an educational element, no matter what age her audience happens to be. Best of all, she is genuinely warm and funny, whether on the page or in person. I’m looking forward to hearing her again at the Vancouver Writers Fest in October 2012.

The young person illustrated on the cover of One in Every Crowd looks both tough and vulnerable against a background of school lockers; someone who is beginning to grow callouses from daily verbal abuse. Someone who may, or may not, live to survive high school. The art is by Elisha Lim, who also did the cover forPersistence: All Ways Butch and Femme (which is on my TBR pile). Lim obviously has a thing for butches; one of her recent creations is a graphic novel, 100 Butches. Images from 100 Butches can be viewed here, and isn’t it delightful?

——————

Find more of Lindy Pratch’s reviews at her book blog, Lindy Reads and Reviews!

Casey reviews Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine

Posted on September 6, 2012 by Danika Ellis

I’ve had a copy of Adrian Tomine’s beautifully drawn graphic novel Shortcomings (2007) around for quite a while; when I was working at a bookstore a few years ago I borrowed it, accidentally spilt coffee on it, and ended up having to buy it. Until I recently reread it, I didn’t really think of it as a queer book, but I’m realizing now that it actually has a lot of interesting and controversial things to say about sexuality, especially in relation to race and gender. I don’t use the word controversial lightly: many of the things the characters in this novel say are decidedly un-PC and will probably offend some people. I don’t think the actual book is offensive, though, because I think it’s clear that the author’s perspective is not the characters’. Also, many of the suspect opinions are repudiated within the novel itself. I do, however, think that Tomine’s strategy to allow these politically incorrect things to come out of his characters’ mouths is a useful way to interrogate assumptions about sexuality, race, and gender, especially those parts of them that we tend to tiptoe around. In other words, you see characters say certain things that you know a lot of people think but wouldn’t usually dare say out loud.

The person who does this the most in Shortcomings is the main character Ben Tanaka. Let me get this out of the way: Ben is not a likable character. He’s a bitter, cynical, pathetic thirty-year-old who manages a university movie theatre and is in an unhappy relationship. His best friend, Alice Kim, is a dyke with a firm belief in telling it like it is; she’s a grad student constantly neglecting her studies to hit on each year’s “incoming freshwomyn” (her goal is to make out with “at least a hundred” women before she gets her Ph.D). She’a great foil for Ben, constantly making fun of him but also pushing him to move outside of his comfort zone. When Ben and his girlfriend Miko are on a ‘break’ later on in the novel, and Ben is trying to hook up with this white woman he works with, Alice warns him “If you hang out with her one more time and don’t make a move, be prepared to be banished to ‘neutered Asian friend’ territory forever!” All the dialogue in the comic is fantastic and authentic to that aesthetic of late twenties Californians, but Alice is particularly hilarious.

Despite the fact she’s a big player on campus, it turns out Alice is actually not out to her family, and she drags Ben as her pretend boyfriend to her parents’ Korean Christian church, switching her usual plaid shirt and jeans for straight drag (a dress and pearl necklace). Side note: I really appreciate how Tomine actually makes her look like a butch dyke, especially one that’s not skinny and is kind of short; I’ve never seen a character like her in a comic, ever. While explaining that her parents are not going to like him because he’s Japanese (“does the phrase ‘world war two’ ring a bell with you?”), Ben recaps: “so rapists and pillagers are preferable to homos.” Yes, she confirms: “Everything is preferable to homos.”

While the main narrative is focused on Ben and his romantic problems (especially when he finds out his girlfriend has fallen for a “rice king,” aka a white dude who likes Asian women), his friendship with Alice plays a large part in the story. Later on, we watch Alice finally find a woman she doesn’t get tired of after a week, and the novel ends—spoiler alert—with the straight guy alone and miserable and the lesbian happy with Meredith, her “total dream girl.” Nice to see that for a change, eh? Also, their romantic quests becomes intertwined for a while after Alice brings Ben to a dyke party and he meet a bisexual woman, Sasha, whom Alice affectionately/offensively calls “the fence-sitter” and a “trendy dabbler.” Sasha is pretty cool, though, so she doesn’t put up with Ben’s bullshit for long, especially when he explains that Asian men are looking at them with “white girl envy” and blames her bisexuality when she wants to stop seeing him.

The novel asks some difficult questions: is having a sexual type—especially one that is racially specific—inherently problematic? Can racial minorities escape oppression and exploitation they’re attracted to/involved with white people? What is the relationship between being attracted to masculinity and/or femininity and male and female bodies? How can we separate our desires from the unavoidable racism and misogyny that we grow up with that inform our ideas of what is attractive? How can you tell you’re *really* attracted to someone regardless of race or gender presentation? Is that even possible? The way Shortcomings goes about asking these questions is sometimes unsettling, at best; but I’m not sure I can agree entirely with Meredith, who tells Ben “If you dig deep enough into anyone’s sexuality, you’re bound to find something you’d rather not examine too closely. But what’s the point in picking it apart? It is what it is.” I mean, that’s what humans do, right? Especially, perhaps, if you’re queer.

Anna M. reviews Silhouette of a Sparrow by Molly Beth Griffin

Posted on September 6, 2012 by Danika Ellis

I was fortunate enough to receive a review copy of the forthcoming Silhouette of a Sparrow by Molly Beth Griffin. This historical coming of age tale is set in the Minnesota resort town of Excelsior. It’s 1926, and sixteen-year old Garnet Richardson is spending summer with her haughty relatives in order to give her war veteran father the opportunity to deal with his PTSD. In her childhood years before the war, Garnet and her father bonded over the study and appreciation of birds, but in response to her mother’s wishes she has channeled her fierce scientific curiosity into a more ladylike pursuit: cutting silhouettes of the birds she encounters. Each chapter begins with the silhouette, common name, and Latin name of a different bird, and Griffin works that bird into the text in some way–some times more awkwardly than others, but the motif offers a strong thread that runs throughout the story.

Garnet’s world opens gradually during her summer away from home. At first, she is constrained by the behavior and expectations of her distant relative, Mrs. Harrington, and feels no connection with her daughter Hannah. Garnet lives a relatively idle life, although she is tempted by the amusement park and intrigued by the forbidden dance hall. She expects to return home, complete school, and likely marry the boy who’s been courting her persistently. But while in Excelsior, Garnet continues to educate herself about birds, meets and falls in love with the alluring dance hall girl Isabella, gets herself a job at a hat shop, and discovers that her future need not be as constrained as she’d envisioned.

It’s clear from Griffin’s meticulous scene-setting that she did a great deal of research into the 20s (see this post for details) and into birds, and the story greatly benefits from her diligence. She does a good job of playing out the tension between the social expectations for Garnet and the new opportunities opening up for her because of the historical era; when she receives a grade from her biology teacher and a suggestion that she consider applying to university, Garnet begins to realize that she might have more options than getting married. However, she also feels a strong responsibility to her family, which is disintegrating at a distance as Garnet undergoes her transformations.

I found Silhouette of a Sparrow a very quick and enjoyable read. It gave me a glimpse into a period of time that I was unfamiliar with, and had a range of engaging characters and a believable storyline. A secondary plot in which Garnet attempts to change her employer’s mind about using feathers from illegally poached birds is a little off-putting in its militant zeal, but doesn’t detract from the overall charm of Griffin’s book.

Guest Post by Gayle Pitman, professor of psychology and women’s studies at Sacramento City College, and blogger at The Active Voice.

Posted on September 5, 2012 by Danika Ellis

I’d like to take this opportunity to talk in more detail about this new project I’m working on – and how you can potentially be a part of it. The working title for my new book is Fringe: On the Edges of the Mainstream Gay Community, which will explore the experiences of people who exist on the edges of the LGBTQ community. These groups include people who are bisexual, polyamorous, alt-sex/BDSM/kink, disabled, non-White, poor and/or working class, older, trans or genderqueer – groups that don’t get as much attention in the mainstream LGBTQ rights agenda, and who often experience marginalization within the LGBTQ community.

When I say “marginalization,” what do I mean by that? As an example, I recently spoke with Dr. Keely Kolmes, who works with the bi, poly, and kink communities in her psychotherapy practice. Early in her career, when she decided to focus her research and therapeutic skills in this direction, she experienced all sorts of negative reactions – and many of those reactions came from members of the LGBTQ community. “Most of us who are gay aren’t like that,” a gay male professional made a point of saying. The assumption behind that statement, of course, is that we want to be seen as normal by heterosexuals – not like those “freaks.”

Or take Dany Atkins, who is bisexual and gender-variant, and who has been in a triadic polyamorous relationship for almost two decades. Although she would like to undergo a full gender transition, her disabilities (and, as a result, her fragile health status) preclude her from going on testosterone or undergoing any form of surgery. She had previously been part of a quad relationship, and when the biological mother of their son decided to leave the quad, a fierce and ugly custody battle ensued – with little support from the LGBTQ community. “You got what you deserved,” one lesbian woman told Dany, who was denied any legal rights to her son.

And then there’s Qui510, formerly known as TriQui Di, a vocalist and songwriter hailing from Oakland, California. Her start began in the African American Baptist and Pentecostal churches, singing in the choir that produced the Hawkins Singers (of “Oh Happy Day!” fame). At the height of her career, Qui510 was signed with a major record label, went on a world tour, and performed with Snoop Dogg, Aaliyah, Natalie Cole, Chaka Khan, and Tony! Toni! Toné! Since 2009, when she came out as a lesbian on her radio show, she’s had difficulty getting even local gigs. “Before, I was on the front page,” Qui510 told me. “Now, I’m an afterthought.”

We could even consider Phyllis Lyon (of Phyllis Lyon/Del Martin fame, the first couple to be legally married in San Francisco and under pre-Proposition 8 California law). If anyone has been a trailblazer in the LGBTQ community, it would be her. Back in the 1950s, Lyon and Martin started the Daughters of Bilitis, the first national lesbian organization in the United States. They helped start the Council on Religion and the Homosexual. They were the first out lesbian members of the National Organization for Women. As they got older, they started the group Old Lesbians Organizing for Change. The San Francisco LGBTQ community is what it is largely because of them. And while Lyon was once front and center in the LGBTQ community, at 88 years old, she now exists on the edges of it. In an ageist culture that celebrates youth, Phyllis Lyon finds little connection in the community she helped build.

That’s what I mean by “marginalization.” It happens within the LGBTQ community – even though we all know what it feels like to be a member of an oppressed group. And that’s why I feel so motivated to write Fringe.

But in order to make this project happen, I need your help.

First, I need to raise money in order to make this project happen. I invite you to take a look at my Fringe Kickstarter campaign, and please consider contributing whatever is possible for you. Also note that with your contribution, you will receive a reward – including a signed copy of Fringe, an opportunity to guest blog here on The Active Voice, or an invite to my book launch party, where many of the people I’ve interviewed for the book (including the three individuals listed above) will be present.

Second, I’m looking for additional people to interview for Fringe. I’ve completed about a half-dozen interviews so far, with another half-dozen lined up in the next few months. If you are a member of an “edge community” within the larger LGBTQ umbrella, I’d be interested in hearing your story. Note that the opportunity to be interviewed is also a reward for contributing to my Kickstarter campaign. If you think your story would be relevant to this project, please contact me at gaylepitman@activevoicepress.com.

Thank you for continuing to read my blog, The Active Voice, and to engage in conversations about my reflections – whether those comments are made on the blog itself, in person, or backchannel via e-mail. These conversations have challenged me to consider issues I hadn’t considered before – and they’ve fueled my excitement for writing and learning more about the community I’m a part of. While I will continue to blog on The Active Voice, I invite you to be a part of this new direction I’m going in.