Introduction to Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Fall 2024

Blog Post # 3 Sexuality Studies

In the third units of our class we examined foundational terms in Sexuality Studies. By the end of each unit you are to select one or two challenging and/or relevant concepts presented in the readings and write 300-500 words engaging the concepts in your own words while drawing on examples from contemporary society or history. The intended audience for this writing should be a peer who is not taking this course but is interested in what you are learning in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies.

Each concept will be posted in the thread for each unit on our shared Emory Scholar Blog page. The objective of these posts are to synthesize your own interpretation of the course material with course discussions. This assignment will make your notes about our discussions and readings accessible to future students of gender and sexuality across the internet. You have until the end of each unit to post your blog post. In each post you are expected to adhere to the Chicago Manual of Style.

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Victor Omni

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Responses

  1. Miriam Brem

    It is easy to forget that history actually happened. Out of necessity, textbook descriptions are two dimensional. There is simply too much history to learn all of it, so instead, we cherry pick the most relevant or “important” information to teach. As such, countless stories and subtle complexities are lost. Academic recounts feel like a justification of the present world rather than a memory of the past one.

    As a child, I spent countless afternoons sitting in my grandparents house, listening to my grandfather complain about how horribly sick he got on his way back from Europe after World War 2 or how, during the Great Depression, they ate blood sausage for months on end. His stories put historical recounts into perspective. They reminded me that historical events happened to actual people.

    The documentary Ruth Ellis @ 100 reminds me of sitting on my grandfather’s couch. This documentary features a set of personal stories told by Ruth Ellis. Through her stories, one can learn a lot about how life was for African American lesbians and other members of the LGBT community during the 20th century. She talks about the struggles that she underwent because of both her sexuality and race. Rather than solely discussing major events, she gives an overview of her life, her communities, and her loved ones.

    Her stories make the past feel real. This isn’t only true for me, in the documentary, a few younger members of the LGBT community are interviewed. They talk about how comforting it is to hear Ruth talk about her past. Although they know that lesbians have always existed, hearing Ruth tell stories about it makes that truth feel real. It serves as a reminder that they are not alone and that time goes on. I think that it is essential for everyone in every identity group to be able to hear about the lives of the people that came before them.

    References:
    Living with pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100. Film. Our Film Works, 1999.

    Reply
  2. Chelsea

    Scholar Blog Post 3: Sexuality Studies

    The topic of sexuality has evolved drastically in the last century; from how it’s been expressed, to how it’s been perceived and its openness. But even with these changes, it still stands to be inadequate in where society should stand. As well as a question I had asked myself after watching the documentary, “Living with Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100”: are all the developed changes inherently needed or good?

    Ruth Ellis was born in 1899; and as we have covered in the previous unit, the concept of Multiple Jeopardies, truly applies to Ruth Ellis. Ruth Ellis was a Black Lesbian woman who grew up in the 20th century, where being a Black woman, let alone not being heterosexual, led her to face Multiple Jeopardies. Earlier in the documentary, Ruth Ellis had mentioned that in the early 1900s a black man had gotten lynched for marrying a white woman. This allowed for viewers to recognize what it meant to be a person of color, let alone a Lesbian woman, during this time period. The insights regarding the role of race and how it shapes queer existence is prevalent in exemplifying how systemic racism plays a role in queer experiences for Black women. Such as how Ruth Ellis had not ever formally “come out”. I had questioned if the reasoning for her to not be open about her sexuality was caused by fear for her own life, as she was a Black woman. This is due to the Multiple Jeopardies that Black women face, as well as the concept of heteronormativity. Heteronormativity is a concept where it makes heterosexuality to be considered the “norm”. The concept of “coming out of the closet” had been a recent development for the LGBTQ community, but in the documentary Ruth Ellis had mentioned how there was “no closet” for her to hide in. But I do not believe that “having a closet”, and not, in Ruth Ellis’s case, is bad in either aspect. In a sense, I found that Ruth Ellis just being Lesbian, and not finding the need to label her sexuality or announcing and declaring her sexuality, was refreshing to see throughout the documentary. In today’s society, members of the LGBTQ community feel the need to come out because of the concept of heteronormativity. And because this concept is considered the norm, society has blindly acknowledged that identifying as another sexuality or gender identity was uncommon or did not follow societal expectations.

    The intersection of race and queerness is exemplified by Ruth Ellis, as she experienced this intersection and exemplified this intersection during a time period where simply being a woman, or person of color, or was not heterosexual was not accepted. As I had watched the documentary: “Living with Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100”, I gained a deeper understanding of what heteronormativity is and how Ruth Ellis did not allow for her life to operate around such societal norms.

    References

    Living With Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100. Our Film Works, 1999.

    Reply
  3. Anooshka Rao

    Sex, gender, and sexuality are used interchangeably with disregard to the many distinctions between each term in our everyday society. To me, sex is based on the biological and physical characteristics of an individual, gender is constructed through the way an individual leads their life, and sexuality is dependent on who an individual is attracted to (if even). Reductionism is a concept I recently came across that fits the ignorance typically displayed. It is defined as a tendency for individuals to oversimplify diversified concepts, like the ones above, and group them all under the same umbrella. By doing so, reductionism attempts to conform these individuals into the binary categories that are socially accepted.

    Sex is often associated with genetic chromosomes and the reproductive genitalia of individuals, but leaves out those who do not fit either of the categories. When discussing gender, people often correlate it to sex which is unfair to those who are unattached to a specific gender such as those who identify as nonbinary. In the reading, Ain’t Nothing Like a Butch Queen, Maron Bailey defined the distinction between sex and gender by describing sex as being female (having female reproductive organs) and gender as living like a woman (behaviors and lifestyle). It can also be noted that sex is subject to change through hormone therapy, hair, and surgery. Bailey also acknowledges the concept of reductionism when discussing how members of the LGBT community are all perceived as the same regardless of how they self-identify. Individuals who are transgender are also unfortunately clumped into this group even though it is a gender category. Finally, sexuality is often viewed in a heteronormative perspective; this means everyone is seen as heterosexual unless stated otherwise. This, however, makes it so that individuals who aren’t straight are not seen as normal since heterosexuality is considered normal. The reading discusses how Black LGBT members suffer the most from this oppression since they are subjected not only to gender but also sexual violence – an intersectional form of discrimination. Bailey interviews a transgender woman, Diva D, who explains it is very important to dress “normal” to avoid homophobic violence and how most people from her community avoid walking the streets during the day due to that. All of these examples help clarify any confusion blurring the lines between these 3 concepts as they are often misunderstood and profoundly different.

    The constant interchangeable use of sex, gender, and sexuality reverses the progress society has made in diversification and reinforces an old, stereotypical way of thinking that encourages exclusion of support of new identities. Bailey also mentions that those who are part of the LBGTQ+ community aren’t directly opposed to the gender norms that are already established, but would rather like to expand on them further; making our definitions and understanding more inclusive and malleable. Their push for inclusivity should be welcomed to create a community of belonging in our society without being bound to outdated norms and truly expressing themselves.

    Citation:

    Bailey, Marlon M. “Butch Queens up in Pumps.” Butch Queens Up in Pumps, 2013. https://press.umich.edu/Books/B/Butch-Queens-Up-in-Pumps2.

    Reply
  4. Hemangini Chawla

    Scholar Blog Post 3: Sexuality Studies

    In 1992, Joan Jett Blakk, the first Black drag queen to step off the stage and enter the world of politics, launched a satirical presidential campaign, where she questioned, “If a bad actor can be president, why not a good drag queen?” Her candidacy wasn’t just a performance, it was a critique of the systemic exclusion of Black LGBTQ+ communities during the AIDS epidemic, highlighting their erasure from the political discourse. Today, Blakk’s legacy resurfaces in the works of contemporary Black queer creators like Lena Waithe, whose film ‘The Beauty President,’ brings Blakk’s story to new audiences. This coins the term intergenerational in contemporary society, as it involves groups of people within the same queer community but from different ages.

    The concept of intergenerational activism emphasizes the transfer of knowledge, strategies, and solidarity between generations. It is particularly significant in marginalized communities, where historical erasure threatens to obscure the contributions of past activists. In the documentary Ruth Ellis @100, Ruth Ellis is portrayed as a Black lesbian activist who mentors the LGTBQ+ youth, embedding her experiences of systemic oppression in the next generation’s toolkit for resistance. Her work demonstrates how bridging generational gaps strengthens movements by creating a shared lineage of activism.

    This lineage is evident in contemporary LGBTQ+ rights movements. The influence of the 1980s “taboo and illegal” Harlem drag ball culture can still be seen in today’s voguing competitions and mainstream media like Pose and RuPaul’s Drag Race. These cultural spaces not only celebrate queer resilience but also pay homage to earlier activists who used art to resist marginalization. By keeping these narratives alive, intergenerational activism preserves cultural heritage while adapting it to address modern challenges.

    Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be” offers a powerful reflection of intergenerational responsibility. Her words challenge individuals to remain present and committed in times of crisis, asking, “Where will you be when they come?” This demand for accountability resonates in movements like the reproductive justice fight, where complacency risks the erosion of hard-won rights. For instance, when young activists today speak of fighting for their futures, they echo the calls to action of their predecessors, creating a continuum of resistance that draws strength from past sacrifices while addressing contemporary challenges.

    However, intergenerational connections aren’t just about struggle, they’re also about joy and healing. Moya Bailey’s “The Illest” critiques ableism in hip-hop while celebrating the genre’s capacity to uplift marginalized voices. Hip-hop as a cultural phenomenon is deeply intergenerational. From pioneers like Grandmaster Flash to contemporary artists like Kendrick Lamar, hip-hip serves as a living archive of resistance. Bailey points out that despite its ableist tendencies, the genre often speaks to the experiences of disabled Black individuals, offering a platform to rewrite narratives imposed by dominant cultures.

    Therefore, the importance of intergenerational connections cannot be overstated. They remind us that every fight for justice is part of a larger narrative, one that spans centuries and continents.

    References:
    – Ruth Ellis @ 100. Directed by Yvonne Welbon, 1999.
    – Parker, Pat. “Where Will You Be.” 1978.
    – The Guardian. “Joan Jett Blakk and the Radical Campaign for the Presidency.” July 2021.
    – Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions, edited by Christopher M. Bell, 141-148. 2011.

    Reply
  5. Hemangini Chawla

    In 1992, Joan Jett Blakk, the first Black drag queen to step off the stage and enter the world of politics, launched a satirical presidential campaign, where she questioned, “If a bad actor can be president, why not a good drag queen?” Her candidacy wasn’t just a performance, it was a critique of the systemic exclusion of Black LGBTQ+ communities during the AIDS epidemic, highlighting their erasure from the political discourse. Today, Blakk’s legacy resurfaces in the works of contemporary Black queer creators like Lena Waithe, whose film ‘The Beauty President,’ brings Blakk’s story to new audiences. This coins the term intergenerational in contemporary society, as it involves groups of people within the same queer community but from different ages.

    The concept of intergenerational activism emphasizes the transfer of knowledge, strategies, and solidarity between generations. It is particularly significant in marginalized communities, where historical erasure threatens to obscure the contributions of past activists. In the documentary Ruth Ellis @100, Ruth Ellis is portrayed as a Black lesbian activist who mentors the LGTBQ+ youth, embedding her experiences of systemic oppression in the next generation’s toolkit for resistance. Her work demonstrates how bridging generational gaps strengthens movements by creating a shared lineage of activism.

    This lineage is evident in contemporary LGBTQ+ rights movements. The influence of the 1980s “taboo and illegal” Harlem drag ball culture can still be seen in today’s voguing competitions and mainstream media like Pose and RuPaul’s Drag Race. These cultural spaces not only celebrate queer resilience but also pay homage to earlier activists who used art to resist marginalization. By keeping these narratives alive, intergenerational activism preserves cultural heritage while adapting it to address modern challenges.

    Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be” offers a powerful reflection of intergenerational responsibility. Her words challenge individuals to remain present and committed in times of crisis, asking, “Where will you be when they come?” This demand for accountability resonates in movements like the reproductive justice fight, where complacency risks the erosion of hard-won rights. For instance, when young activists today speak of fighting for their futures, they echo the calls to action of their predecessors, creating a continuum of resistance that draws strength from past sacrifices while addressing contemporary challenges.

    However, intergenerational connections aren’t just about struggle, they’re also about joy and healing. Moya Bailey’s “The Illest” critiques ableism in hip-hop while celebrating the genre’s capacity to uplift marginalized voices. Hip-hop as a cultural phenomenon is deeply intergenerational. From pioneers like Grandmaster Flash to contemporary artists like Kendrick Lamar, hip-hip serves as a living archive of resistance. Bailey points out that despite its ableist tendencies, the genre often speaks to the experiences of disabled Black individuals, offering a platform to rewrite narratives imposed by dominant cultures.

    Therefore, the importance of intergenerational connections cannot be overstated. They remind us that every fight for justice is part of a larger narrative, one that spans centuries and continents.

    References:
    – Ruth Ellis @ 100. Directed by Yvonne Welbon, 1999.
    – Parker, Pat. “Where Will You Be.” 1978.
    – The Guardian. “Joan Jett Blakk and the Radical Campaign for the
    Presidency.” July 2021.
    – Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In
    Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions,
    edited by Christopher M. Bell, 141-148. 2011.

    Reply
  6. Miriam Kayemba

    One of the concepts presented in the works we looked at in this unit about sexuality studies that struck my interest the most was the importance of hearing black queer life narratives and how these stories complicate mainstream ideas of identity and aging. These ideas are thoroughly explored in the documentary Ruth Ellis @ 100 (Director Yvonne Welboun) (1999). Her unique and powerful stories challenge modern ideas of “coming out of the closet” and aging.
    Ruth Ellis was an LGBTQ+ rights activist and the oldest African American lesbian. She lived her life freely without “coming out of the closet.” Something compelling about that is that coming out is a huge moment for most people who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community; however, she defied those modern expectations. Ellis did not hide her sexuality; when questioned, she would tell the truth, but she also would not go around shouting it from the rooftops. I have always questioned the point of coming out of the closet. While I do see it as a powerful public declaration, I have always thought why do gay and lesbian people have to come out of the closet but straight people do not? It makes our identities seem not normal. The way Ellis carried herself throughout her life reaffirms questions I have had. It is a beautiful thing to see that she defied societal pressures and instead of publicly declaring her sexuality she defined through who she was through her actions and relationships. As a result, I am left with the question: is coming out necessary to live an authentic life?
    In addition to challenging our thinking on identity, Ellis’s story fights stereotypes about aging. Most people have the idea that all people of Ellis’ age have a backward way of thinking because they “grew up in a different time”. Ellis pushed back against this notion as she mentored, supported, and provided a haven for others. For instance, her home became known as “The Gay Spot” – a place where other African American gays and lesbians could gather in Detroit (“Living with Pride | Bentley Historical Library,” n.d.). Her life exemplifies how crucial older LGBTQ+ individuals are to the community, complicating the ageism within the LGBTQ+ community. In addition to that, her commitment to creating a safe and supportive space for LGBTQ+ people regardless of age or experience serves as a reminder of the importance of intergenerational solidarity. Her legacy should be remembered and celebrated.
    Hearing queer stories such as Ruth Ellis’ is important for preserving history but also for expanding our knowledge of sexuality and identity today. I very rarely hear black queer narratives; hearing them pushes us to think about queer theory in relation to the intersections of race, age, and sexuality.

    Bibliography
    “Living with Pride | Bentley Historical Library.” n.d. https://bentley.umich.edu/news-events/magazine/living-with-pride/.
    Welbon, Yvonne. 1999. “Ruth Ellis @ 100.”

    Reply
  7. Hemangini Chawla

    Scholar Blog Post 3: Sexuality Studies

    In 1992, Joan Jett Blakk, the first Black drag queen to step off the stage and enter the world of politics, launched a satirical presidential campaign, where she questioned, “If a bad actor can be president, why not a good drag queen?” Her candidacy wasn’t just a performance, it was a critique of the systemic exclusion of Black LGBTQ+ communities during the AIDS epidemic, highlighting their erasure from the political discourse. Today, Blakk’s legacy resurfaces in the works of contemporary Black queer creators like Lena Waithe, whose film ‘The Beauty President,’ brings Blakk’s story to new audiences. This coins the term intergenerational in contemporary society, as it involves groups of people within the same queer community but from different ages.

    The concept of intergenerational activism emphasizes the transfer of knowledge, strategies, and solidarity between generations. It is particularly significant in marginalized communities, where historical erasure threatens to obscure the contributions of past activists. In the documentary Ruth Ellis @100, Ruth Ellis is portrayed as a Black lesbian activist who mentors the LGTBQ+ youth, embedding her experiences of systemic oppression in the next generation’s toolkit for resistance. Her work demonstrates how bridging generational gaps strengthens movements by creating a shared lineage of activism.

    This lineage is evident in contemporary LGBTQ+ rights movements. The influence of the 1980s “taboo and illegal” Harlem drag ball culture can still be seen in today’s voguing competitions and mainstream media like Pose and RuPaul’s Drag Race. These cultural spaces not only celebrate queer resilience but also pay homage to earlier activists who used art to resist marginalization. By keeping these narratives alive, intergenerational activism preserves cultural heritage while adapting it to address modern challenges.

    Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be” offers a powerful reflection of intergenerational responsibility. Her words challenge individuals to remain present and committed in times of crisis, asking, “Where will you be when they come?” This demand for accountability resonates in movements like the reproductive justice fight, where complacency risks the erosion of hard-won rights. For instance, when young activists today speak of fighting for their futures, they echo the calls to action of their predecessors, creating a continuum of resistance that draws strength from past sacrifices while addressing contemporary challenges.

    However, intergenerational connections aren’t just about struggle, they’re also about joy and healing. Moya Bailey’s “The Illest” critiques ableism in hip-hop while celebrating the genre’s capacity to uplift marginalized voices. Hip-hop as a cultural phenomenon is deeply intergenerational. From pioneers like Grandmaster Flash to contemporary artists like Kendrick Lamar, hip-hip serves as a living archive of resistance. Bailey points out that despite its ableist tendencies, the genre often speaks to the experiences of disabled Black individuals, offering a platform to rewrite narratives imposed by dominant cultures.

    Therefore, the importance of intergenerational connections cannot be overstated. They remind us that every fight for justice is part of a larger narrative, one that spans centuries and continents.

    References :
    -Ruth Ellis @ 100. Directed by Yvonne Welbon, 1999.
    -Parker, Pat. “Where Will You Be.” 1978.
    -The Guardian. “Joan Jett Blakk and the Radical Campaign for the
    Presidency.” July 2021.
    -Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In
    Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions,
    edited by Christopher M. Bell, 141-148. 2011.

    Reply
  8. Jasmine Zhou

    Throughout history, LGBTQ+ communities, particularly racialized ones, have endured systemic marginalization, silencing, and oppression. However, as society progresses, these communities have begun openly expressing pride in their identities, cultures, and sexualities, uplifting previously marginalized individuals’ status and bringing them greater social visibility and acceptance.

    In “Butch Queens Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit,” Marlon M. Bailey examines ballroom culture, an underground subculture where marginalized individuals can openly express their identities. The ballroom culture contains three core elements: the gender system, the kinship structure (houses), and ball events. The gender system allows participants to explore their identities beyond mainstream norms, spanning a spectrum of identities. In the kinship structure, the ‘houses’ represent chosen families, where “mothers” and “fathers” mentor, nurture, and support ‘children’ who are rejected from their biological families. The ball events serve as a venue for community gatherings and competitions, embodying self-expression and community recognition. The LGBTQ+ community flourished secretly in the ballroom culture during the 20th century and relied on the ‘ballroom’ as a medium of self-expression.

    As societal acceptance of diverse genders and sexualities grows, queer communities are no longer confined within narrow spaces like ‘ballrooms’ but can now publicly and proudly display their identities. Contemporary pride parades and campaigns, such as the New York City Pride March, exemplify this transition, transforming a once-hidden subculture into a vibrant part of mainstream culture that is appreciated and celebrated.

    The documentary “Living with Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100” portrays the life of Ruth Ellis, an African American LGBTQ+ activist who defied societal conventions by living openly as a lesbian during an era of severe discrimination. Ellis’s life was not marked by a single “coming out” moment but by a lifetime of self-acceptance and advocacy. Whether it’s establishing “The Spot,” which offers a space for acceptance for the Black LGBTQ+ community, or founding the Ruth Ellis Center that addresses healthcare and homelessness issues of racial minorities, Ellis continues to empower those who endured the compounded oppression of racial discrimination and queerphobia through supportive networks and economic assistance, leaving a long-lasting legacy and generational impact.

    Similarly, British writer Diana Athill reflects on her unconventional yet fulfilled life in her memoir “Somewhere Towards the End.” After experiencing several romantic relationships in her youth, Athill chose a single lifestyle and argued love and motherhood are not necessities for life and fulfillment. Her life story broadened the conventional definition of what constitutes a meaningful life and demonstrated the brilliance of living authentically.

    In summary, these examples illustrate the resilience and determination of marginalized LGBTQ communities to pursue self-expression and recognition. From the creativity of ballroom culture and the legacy of Ruth Ellis to the pride parades and those who persist in distinct lifestyles, these narratives continuously motivate individuals to strive for broader recognition of diverse identities in shaping an inclusive and equitable society.

    References:

    Bailey, Marlon M. Butch Queens Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2013.
    Fisher, Yvonne Welbon, dir. Ruth Ellis @ 100. Chicago: Whispering Pines Productions, 1999.

    Reply
  9. Grace Cho

    When one initially thinks of sexuality, they typically refer to either the biological definition where it is required for reproduction or perhaps the space for sexual feelings. This oftentimes leads to people not fully comprehending the ambiguity behind the concept of sexuality. There are countless interpretations regarding sexuality and its connections to other concepts. One of the most notable connections may be the interconnection between the following two factors: Sexuality and Marginalization. This specifically refers to the relation of how systematic oppression impacts the existing identities formed from the intersectionality of gender, disability, race, queerness etc. This is exemplified in the analysis of the essay, “‘The illest: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music” as Mona Bailey provides information regarding the impact of disability being utilized as a metaphor in hip hop. Thus, connecting race and disability which may specifically reference ableism and ‘Blackness.’ On the other hand, when viewing Pat Parker’s “Where Will You Be,” it is observed of the confrontation of the many vulnerabilities shown while identifying as queer, Black, and female. Such pieces emphasize the strong discrimination and neglect resulting from a simple aspect such as identity.

    In terms of contemporary society, such intersectionality is increasingly prevalent in aspects like healthcare disparities. An example can be the systematic stigma, neglect and restrictions that come alongside as a Black transgender individual when attempting to acquire healthcare. This does not only pertain to that specific identity but disabled queer individuals in general. They have the tendency to experience dual neglect as the individual’s queerness is not usually taken into consideration in environments where their disability is already exposed. This goes the other way as the individual’s disabilities may be overlooked in spaces where LGBTQ+ is promoted or advocated for. Due to the formation of such dynamics, one can reflect on the more broader discomfort resulting in society for people with intersecting identities of race, gender, disability, etc. For instance, there may be perpetuated structural inequalities that do not accordingly accommodate the complexity of these individuals.

    When looking back into history, there are significant figures like Marsha P. Johnson who displayed this intersectionality. This was due to Johnson’s background as a Black transgender activist with mental health challenges. Their active involvement was significant during the LGBTQ+ rights movement along with their voiced challenges regarding mental health and their later unfortunate violent passing. This emphasized the way in which society overlooks and marginalized individuals who are at such intersections. Similarly, Monica Jones’s interview brought awareness regarding her experience as someone who identifies as a Black transgender woman. Her experience included the criminalization for simply existing in a public environment, thus exemplifying the existence of systematic policing of marginalized individuals.

    The ultimate obstacle is said to be disassembling such accumulated oppressions with the advocation of intersectionality. By confronting and accepting the existence of the challenges that are faced by people who are at these intersections, society can then finally take a step towards fair inclusion. This step is insinuated as Pat Parker calls for action to fight against the oppressive intersecting systems and to help gather support for marginalized groups by asking, “Where will you be?”

    References:

    Bailey, Moya. “‘The illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop music.” Blackness and disability:
    Critical examinations and cultural interventions (2011): 141-14

    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be? Woman in the Moon Press, 1978.

    Reply
  10. Saketh Amaravai

    When I read Moya Bailey’s The Illest, I couldn’t stop thinking about how language shapes the way we view sexuality and disability. One moment that really struck me was her critique of the song “Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas. Bailey explores how the casual use of words like “retarded” dehumanizes people with disabilities and reinforces harmful stereotypes. It made me realize just how much language can perpetuate ableist ideas, often without us even noticing.

    Bailey also made me think about how these stereotypes affect disabled people’s sexuality. When I think about how general society views and portrays disabled individuals, they’re often unfairly shown as if they don’t have any sexuality or as if they can’t be involved in meaningful relationships. This isn’t new. Historically, forced sterilization programs during the 20th century targeted disabled individuals under the false assumption that they were unfit to reproduce or engage in relationships. These programs, justified by eugenics, stripped people of their autonomy and reflected deep societal discomfort with the idea of disabled people having sexuality or reproductive agency.

    Bailey emphasizes that these attitudes are even more damaging for Black women with disabilities, who face multiple layers of discrimination through the combinations of racism, sexism, and ableism. This made me realize how much of society’s discomfort with sexuality comes from not wanting to see people as multifaceted, especially those who don’t fit “conventional norms.”

    One thing I hadn’t considered before reading Bailey’s work was how much pop culture plays a role in this erasure. Songs like “Let’s Get Retarded” don’t just reinforce ableism; they also silence people with disabilities by ignoring their experiences. The way language is so casually weaponized in the media shows how little thought is often given to its impact. This erasure continues today in entertainment media. For instance, we rarely see disabled characters portrayed in romantic or sexual contexts in movies or television, which pushes the stereotype that they are undeserving of intimacy. This made me reflect on how rarely disabled people are portrayed in the media as having relationships or being seen as sexual beings, and how much that matters.

    What I found most inspiring, though, was Bailey’s discussion of resistance. She describes how disabled activists are reclaiming their stories and pushing back against these harmful stereotypes. Through art and advocacy, they challenge ableist norms and show the complexity and beauty of their lives. For example, projects like #DisabledAndSexy on social media express the voices of disabled individuals by celebrating their sexuality and self-expression. These movements are powerful reminders that society’s stereotypes are not only inaccurate but deeply harmful.

    In all honesty, reading The Illest challenged me to think about how language shapes the way we see others. Bailey’s work reminded me that words have the power not just to harm, but to push for change. Her call to confront ableism and rethink how we talk about disability feels inspiring and I know I’ll carry these lessons with me as I try to be more mindful and inclusive in how I approach these conversations.

    References:
    Bailey, Moya. The Illest: Disability, Chronic Illness, and African American Women. Duke University Press, 2022.

    Reply
  11. Mahdia Rahman

    When exploring Black feminist and queer frameworks, the intersection of race, disability, and trans identities reveals intricate layers of marginalization and resilience. In Moya Bailey’s “‘The illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip-Hop Music,” she studies how hip-hop uses disability as a metaphor, often associating it with being “ill” with greatness and struggle. This metaphor shows broader societal attitudes where disability is both visible and invisible at the same time, specially within Black communities. While this language can be empowering as it is reclaiming terms, it can also reinforce harmful stereotypes and overlook the real experiences of disabled individuals. Her critique is mainly relevant in movements for racial justice, which often left out Black disabled voices. For example, cases like Deborah Danner, a Black woman who had schizophrenia and was killed by the police, show how racism and ableism work together to create distinct vulnerabilities.
    Tourmaline’s short film Atlantic is a Sea of Bones adds to this conversation by focusing on the experiences of Black trans women. The film used the Atlantic Ocean as a powerful metaphor for memory and survival. It connected the historical traumas faced during slavery to the ongoing violence by Black trans individuals even today. The ocean represents both loss and resilience, showing how Black histories of erasure shape Black trans lives yet remain a strong example of bravery and resistance. This idea relates to the struggles of Black trans women like Monica Jones, who were targeted and criminalized simply for existing.
    Both Bailey and Tourmaline emphasize the importance of understanding identities as interconnected. Their work stands as a reminder that social movements must address these intersections to be inclusive. Modern efforts, such as #DisabilityJustice and #SayHerName, are attempts to bring these voices to the spotlight, but there is still a long way to go. For example, the healthcare system tends to fail to meet the needs of Black disabled and trans individuals, who face many barriers due to systemic biases. Addressing these problems requires recognizing them and highlighting the voices of those most affected.
    By engaging with ideas as such, we are challenged to think beyond the simple definitions of identity. Both Bailey and Tourmaline show how the overlapping impacts of race, disability, and gender create different forms of marginalization while also offering new ways to imagine resistance. Their insights inspire us to create more inclusive perspectives when understanding justice and equality in both academic and activist spaces.

    References
    – Bailey, Moya. “‘The illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop music.” Blackness and disability: Critical examinations and cultural interventions(2011): 141-148.
    – Tourmaline, “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones” (Short Film) (2017)

    Reply
  12. Isabella Madariaga

    In her essay, “The Illest: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music,” Moya Bailey explores the use of language which is often labeled as ableist in hip-hop culture. She begins by examining Hyphy, a subgenre of hip-hop characterized by exaggeration and “crazy” behavior. Bailey explains that by embracing these stigmatized behaviors, black people are challenging their marginalization and demanding recognition. In this context, terms like “crazy” or “retarded” take on a positive connotation. Hyphy offers a temporary escape from the constraints of daily life. This association with freedom is also reflected in hip hop dance in general, which is intentionally free-form and expressive. On the other hand, Bailey also acknowledges the irony of this portrayal of freedom when considering the experiences of disabled people. While this music is meant to provide liberation, it does not reflect the realities faced by those with disabilities. Additionally, Bailey draws attention to how hip hop’s use of ableist language may also be exposing its lack of awareness about disability. Ultimately, Bailey calls for a more nuanced approach to understanding language that embraces the complexity of its effects on various communities.
    I found Bailey’s attempt to examine ableist language in hip hop beyond the judgments of good or bad fascinating. It is easy to react with offense and dismiss something as entirely negative, as seen in the public response to the Black Eyed Peas song “Let’s Get Retarded” Bailey references in her introduction, so I appreciate how she examines the context in which this language was being used. However, I also appreciate her critique of hip hop. As she aptly notes, not everything can be reimagined. This essay led me to reflect on how marginalized communities use language as a tool for empowerment, as well as the need for greater awareness and sensitivity toward the experiences of other marginalized groups. Moving forward, I hope to engage with cultural expressions like Bailey, in a way that is both critical and compassionate.
    References:
    Bell, Christopher. Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions. Michigan State University Press, 2012.

    Reply
  13. Sofia Rahman

    Too often in modern media, I hear complaints from conservative news anchors and commentators about the prevalence of queerness and queer identities in American society. They will often ask Why do they have to be so loud about it these days? or say I just don’t understand why they have to shove it down our throats. These sentiments have trickled down into everyday conversation, and I now often hear these ideas being echoed among ordinary people. On occasion, I have even heard LGBTQ+ people themselves agreeing with and parroting them.

    Those who believe this often fail to recognize that “loud” queer identities are no new phenomenon. Queer communities -and, by extension, queer politics- have existed in the United States for generations. Pat Parker’s “Where Will You Be?”, written in 1978, discusses the gravity of queer politics with a conviction that remains pervasive to this day. In the piece, Parker conveys the necessity for publicly-shown queer politics and personas through her depictions of American citizens opposing them. She describes them as ordinary people who, armed with their perceived ideals of religion, fight against queer people’s right to live through systematic demolition of their lives. These “crusaders” are not a wild mob of people that will rampage through the streets; they instead vote against gay rights, displace queer people from their homes, and claim that they must be fixed or rehabilitated. Pat Parker implores gay and lesbian individuals to be loud about their queerness in spite of all opposition. She condemns those who hide their lovers, distance themselves from the politics of being queer, and stay silent in the face of others’ mistreatment. In doing so, she underscores the inherent politicism of being openly queer. Where will you be, she asks, when the oppressors inevitably come? Silence cannot save you from being affected by the queer politics you denounce when your fellow citizens are voting away your right to live in peace. The unfortunate reality is that, whether you like it or not, your identity becomes political when others make their hatred for you political.

    Queer politics -and, by extension, identity politics- are not the new matter many believe they are. Half a century ago, Pat Parker recognized the threat that religious outcry and self-righteous contempt could pose to a community that was already facing the effects of systemic oppression. Half a century ago, she saw the need for a united queer community and demanded that they stop being silent when their own people were targeted and mistreated. In today’s divisive political climate, these ideas are just as vital as they were back then. Silence is not neutrality, it is complicitness. To be loud is not merely an act of defiance: it is a vital act of survival.

    References
    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be?” in Movement in Black: The Collected Poetry of Pat Parker. Firebrand Books, 1978.

    Reply
  14. Jason Zhang

    In the intersection of cultural studies and Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, the concept of reappropriation offers a compelling lens to analyze the language used in marginalized communities. Specifically, in “The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music,” Moya Bailey examines how ableist language like “retarded” and “dumb” has been reappropriated in hip-hop as symbols of liberation while perpetuating harm to disabled individuals. This dual effect highlights both the liberatory potential and the oppressive consequences of such language use.

    Reappropriation involves taking words or symbols originally used to oppress and giving them new, empowering meanings. In hip hop, this often occurs in what Bailey describes as liminal spaces — transitional zones where traditional meanings are challenged. For example, in the Bay Area’s Hyphy movement, terms like “going dumb” were transformed to celebrate losing control and breaking free from societal constraints. Within this context, “dumb” no longer connotes a lack of intelligence but embodies the freedom of unrestrained self-expression through music and dance.

    While this reinterpretation creates a cultural space for marginalized communities to reclaim power over language, Bailey notes that the new meanings do not erase original oppressive connotations. These terms provide rebellion for some but still reinforce harmful stereotypes for others, particularly people with disabilities.

    A similar tension exists in the reclamation of identity-based terms within LGBTQ+ communities. In urban Chinese LGBTQ+ circles, “gay” has been reclaimed as a term of pride, symbolizing resilience and community. However, this reclamation does not erase its oppressive connotations in mainstream Chinese society, where queer identities remain stigmatized. In casual settings, “gay” (or its Chinese equivalent “弯” [wān], meaning “bent”) is often used to describe something undesirable, echoing how English speakers might say, “That’s so gay.” While its increased usage could enhance LGBTQ+ visibility, the negative connotations continue to reinforce systemic cultural oppression.

    China’s cultural context complicates this dynamic. LGBTQ+ identities exist in a liminal space, both visible and invisible. Some urban areas embrace queer expression, yet systemic erasure persists through censorship of LGBTQ+ content. Positive portrayals of queer identities are rare, and the reclamation of terms like “gay” struggles to reach broader society. Instead, oppressive connotations often dominate, mirroring Bailey’s critique of ableist language in hip hop. Although these terms can empower LGBTQ+ communities and enhance visibility, they also perpetuate stigmatization in larger societal contexts.

    This challenge underscores a broader issue with reappropriation as a resistance strategy. Bailey raises an important question: how can marginalized groups unite against oppression when reappropriated language continues to marginalize certain populations? Language reclamation can be powerful, but its success depends on an intersectional approach that considers the experiences of all marginalized groups. Without this, reappropriation risks “foreclosing” the freedom of those still trapped by harmful meanings.

    References

    Bailey, Moya. “The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions, edited by Christopher M. Bell, 141-150. New York: LIT Verlag, 2011.

    Reply
  15. Viraj Shivadevuni

    As we explore topics focusing on sexuality studies, a common theme that arises is the criminalization of sex work. Black trans women have faced compound racism and gender discrimination through systemic inequalities in the public health sector. One such example is the HIV/AIDS epidemic in which “Black transgender women were significantly less likely to be retained in care than Black cisgender women” (Klein et. al, 2020).
    In an interview, black queer feminist, Monica Jones, emphasizes the activism against criminalization of sex work and offers us insight into how the legal systems disproportionately affect marginalized communities, specifically Black trans women (Jones, 2020). I found it intriguing how Jones’ analysis of criminalization branches away from it only being a legal issue but rather a public health concern. She brings up programs such as Phoenix’s “Project ROSE”, a sting operation targeting sex workers, held by the Arizona State University and the Phoenix Police (Jones, 2020). I believe that universities should be an area of support in which individuals can express their sexuality and identity freely. However, through this project, the government takes advantage of these “free expression” areas to criminalize individuals for their choices, rather than acting as a place of support. Moreover, this further harms individuals participating in sex work by framing sex work as a crime rather than a means of survival or a profession. The most vulnerable community within the sex worker community are Black trans women as they have been shunned by society due to the compounding factors of their race, gender, and sexuality. This has culminated in vast disparities between the care that Black trans women receive vs. the care of cis-gendered white women in public health institutions.
    This trend is exemplified by the HIV/AIDS epidemic in which Black trans women saw higher mortality and criminalization rates. There were laws instilled that disproportionately affected Black trans women and sex workers, spreading pervasive beliefs that they were “vectors of disease and are assumed to spread infections to ‘unsuspecting victims’” (Jones, 2020). I think this quote epitomizes the concept that Black trans women are purposely excluded and targeted by government institutions because they are further limiting the opportunities for them to be employed and overcome stigma. By framing Black trans women as a signal of danger, these laws are giving in to existing stereotypes, further limiting Black trans women. For example, many Black trans sex workers were denied HIV testing and adequate medical care because of the transphobia instilled in healthcare systems. This multiplied the vulnerability faced by Black trans sex workers, who already had an unstable economic situation and minimal social support within the Black community.
    Jones’s perspective was highly fascinating to me and her analysis of the intersections of systemic criminalization and legal system disproportionalities of Black trans women appealed to me. Moreover, her call to action for dismantling the stigma placed on Black trans sex workers still needs to be addressed in modern society.

    References:
    Gossett, Che, and Eva Hayward. “Monica Jones: An Interview.” Transgender Studies Quarterly7, no. 4 (2020): 611-614
    Klein, Pamela W., Demetrios Psihopaidas, Jessica Xavier, and Stacy M. Cohen. 2020. “HIV-Related Outcome Disparities between Transgender Women Living with HIV and Cisgender People Living with HIV Served by the Health Resources and Services Administration’s Ryan White HIV/AIDS Program: A Retrospective Study.” Edited by Elvin H. Geng. PLOS Medicine 17 (5): e1003125. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pmed.1003125.

    Reply
  16. Atharva Abhyankar

    When exploring the oppression faced by LGBTQ+ individuals, I often experience society’s unwillingness to openly discuss and embrace diverse perspectives, instead resorting to silence and treating these marginalized communities as “others.” However, after engaging with Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be?” and the documentary “Living with Pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100” I understand how the concept of silence and “perversion” deeply impact these communities.

    The aspect of Parker’s poem that stood out to me most was the concept of silence and oppression pertaining to LGBTQ+ individuals. Parker notes, “Every time we watched a queer hassled in the streets and said nothing – it was an act of perversion. Every time we lied about the girlfriend or boyfriend at coffee break– it was an act of perversion.” (Parker 1978, par. 10-11). The term “perversion” usually means diversion from societal norms, yet Parker redefines the term to show that it is actually society’s silencing and stigmatization of queer individuals that constitutes true deviation from moral responsibility. In other words, Parker argues that society being a bystander to injustice actually contributes to the oppression that these individuals face. By living a life in hiding, LGBTQ+ individuals continue to be marginalized and dehumanized in society, unable to freely and openly express themselves.

    The story of Ruth Ellis, described in the documentary “Living with Pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100”, stands in contrast to Parker’s message and deepens my understanding of silence and its impact on struggling communities. Ellis, a Black lesbian who lived to be 100, resisted this systematic silence by creating spaces of community for others like her. Despite facing the compounded oppressions of racism, sexism, and homophobia, Ellis’s life demonstrates to me how marginalized individuals can resist and persist against societal structures that seek to silence them by being outspoken, prideful, and embracing one’s identity. Ellis represents the exact type of resistance that Parker advocates for in her poem, even going as far as creating safe spaces for LGBTQ+ individuals to freely embrace and express their sexuality.

    A contemporary example that directly demonstrates the work of Parker and Ellis is the GLSEN Day of Silence. On this day, students take a day-long vow of silence to protest the silencing of LGBTQ individuals. Held annually since 1996, the event aims to bring awareness and attention to LGBTQ+ youth who are silenced through discriminatory policies and societal forces like bullying and harassment. This act of silence is an attempt to show compassion and representation for those who feel silenced or forced to hide their true identities.

    In conclusion, both Parker’s critique of silence and Ellis’s activism highlight the power of visibility and the need for marginalized communities to be seen and heard. Through these examples, I am personally inspired and reminded that true change comes not from silence, but from speaking up and embracing our identities without fear.

    References:
    Living with pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100. Film. Our Film Works, 1999.
    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be? Woman in the Moon Press, 1978.

    Reply
  17. Kaitlin Liu

    Yvonne Welbon’s 1999 documentary Ruth Ellis @ 100 highlights the often-overlooked connections between race, sexuality, and gender identity in queer history. Ruth Ellis, who lived as an open Black lesbian during a time when same-sex marriage was far from legal and when society was heavily segregated, challenges the heteronormative narratives in the society we are living in. Her story is not just a personal triumph; it is a historical counter-narrative to the white, male-dominated accounts of queer liberation.
    One of the core ideas in gender and queer study is heteronormativity, the assumption that heterosexuality is the default or “normal” sexual orientation. This gives rise to the social construct of “coming out,” which requires queer people to disclose their identity because they are presumed to be heterosexual or binary unless they explicitly indicate differently. Ruth Ellis never had to “come out” because she lived her truth openly from the start, defying societal norms and challenging the expectation that queer identities must be hidden or later revealed.

    Heteronormativity structures not only societal expectations but also many historical accounts of sexuality, often erasing or marginalizing queer people of color. For example, the Stonewall riots are frequently remembered through a lens that centers on white, cisgender gay men, such as in the movie “Stonewall” where a white man threw the first stone during the uprising. However, it was trans women of color like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, along with other Black and Latinx queer individuals, who were at the forefront of the rebellion. Their voices, captured in the interview “Rapping with a Street Transvestite Revolutionary” by Allen Young, illuminate the intersectional struggles of queer liberation movements, especially those led by trans women of color. Johnson’s activism and lived experience remind us of the existence of the intersections of multiple marginalized identities. The specific details in her account, such as the communities’ struggles with housing insecurity, police brutality, and survival as a sex worker, provide a portrayal of intersectional oppression. Marsha P. Johnson was neither admirable queer nor ideals of the contemporary “gay” or “transgender” stereotype; she was a poor, gender-variant woman of color who worked as street-based prostitutes. Activists like Marsha were frequently marginalized within the largely white, non-gender variant, gay liberation movement because of their multitude of identities.

    Their stories and struggles reveal how systemic exclusion is not new but deeply ingrained in queer activism itself. Ruth Ellis’s story is a powerful illustration of intersectionality in action As a Black lesbian, her existence itself challenged the heterosexism of Black communities. The marginalization of figures like Ellis and the misrepresenting of events like Stonewall are not coincidental. They highlight systemic patterns of exclusion that prioritize whiteness and cisgender identities. The exclusionary practices we see in contemporary policies, such as the backlash against inclusive measures for non-binary and trans individuals like providing menstrual products in men’s bathrooms or restrictions on transgender rights in healthcare and sports, echo the systemic patterns of exclusion that prioritize whiteness and cisgender identities.

    “RNC speakers lean into homophobic and transphobic rhetoric.” 2024b. https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-politics-and-policy/rnc-speakers-lean-homophobic-transphobic-rhetoric-rcna162505.
    “Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries.” n.d. The Anarchist Library. https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/ehn-nothing-untorelli-press-street-transvestite-action-revolutionaries.

    Reply
  18. Lucero Alvarado

    Throughout history, the LGBTQ+ community, specifically Black queer women, have experienced systemic racism, sexism, and suppression because of their sexual identities. Ruth Ellis was a Black lesbian activist who dedicated her time to creating safe spaces and communities for Black LGBTQ+ people in Detroit. Additionally, Pat Parker, a Black lesbian poet and activist, critiqued systems of oppression and exclusionary behaviors that society used to exclude Black women in LGBTQ+ and feminist spaces. Black women’s sexuality has been a site of resistance and reclamation, highlighting the importance of intersectional solidarity in society.
    The in-class viewing of Ruth Ellis @ 100 by Yvonne Welboun introduced the life of Ruth Ellis from childhood until her later years. An important concept from this film that resonated with me was the story of reclamation, Ellis was an openly Black lesbian during which racism and homophobia were common in society. In the documentary, Ellis mentions how she openly came out to her family and dated women. In addition, Ellis created a safe space for Black LGBTQ+ people in her home called the “Gay Spot.” Through this, she shows her resistance to societal norms at the time, living as an openly lesbian Black woman, and creating belonging and safe spaces for Black LGBTQ+ people who were excluded from white-only queer bars. Connecting back to reclamation, Ellis reclaimed her community by challenging the erasure of Black lesbians. Her life and commitments exemplify how resistance can be a powerful act of defiance against societal racism, sexism, and homophobia.
    Pat Parker’s Where Will You Be also mentions the call to resistance, fighting for solidarity from feminist and LGBTQ+ movements who often excluded Black women. Parker states, “Every time we let a lesbian mother lose her child and did not fill the courtroom –It was an act of perversion” (Parker 1978, 1). Here, Parker talks about the systemic homophobia that lesbian mothers had to experience, stripping them of their own rights in the courtroom. Black lesbian mothers often face discrimination because of the intersections of race, sexuality, and gender. In contemporary society, we see the ongoing issue with protections for LGBTQ+ families, particularly, Black queer women who face barriers to parental rights/custody. Laws like the “religious freedom” law allow for legal discrimination against LGBTQ+ people because of parental fitness, negatively affecting Black queer women.
    In conclusion, Ruth Ellis’s life and Pat Parker’s work show that Black women’s sexuality has been challenged systemically. Still, activists like them show the power of resistance and reclamation as tools for justice and equality. As we push to address challenges that affect Black queer women, Ellis’s life and Parker’s work show us the importance of centering intersectionality and embracing solidarity in the fight for justice.

    References

    Living with pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100. Film. Our Film Works, 1999.

    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be? Woman in the Moon Press, 1978.

    Reply
  19. Isabella Chow

    Last June, the Christopher Street-Sheridan Square 1-Train station was renamed the Christopher Street-Stonewall station in honor of the Stonewall Riot of 1969 and the start of the LGBTQ+ rights movement. While this marks a step in remembering the gruesome history of maltreatment faced by Queer people, to what extent is this statement endorsing a progress narrative that the oppression is over, that the fear of being queer in a White heteronormative society is no longer prevalent, and that the dialogue and nuances of a collective past are being diluted?

    Lucille Clifton’s “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones,” emphasizes the legacy of slavery beyond the Atlantic slave trade. It calls for the remembrance of those lost, of those who suffered, of those who survived. Clifton questions the influence of these stories on our own lives, and how acknowledgement of the “bridge of ivory” shapes the meaning behind our actions (Clifton, 1987). The short film “Tourmaline, Atlantic is a Sea of Bones,” applies Clifton’s concept of the ongoing legacy of violence and threat to a more contemporary setting, one that particularly resonated with me. Here, the older Egyptt LeBeija – a drag queen and star of this film – emerges in and out of her younger self in both intimate bedroom scenes and public spaces. Tourmaline’s emphasis on this fluid, almost reflective like duality draws to the hidden similarities between the systemic oppression faced by both older and younger queer people, paralleling to the similarities of fear and threat faced by Queer people today and Queer people from 50 years ago, questioning the true progress and supposed achieve of LGBTQ+ liberation (Tourmaline, 2017). Tourmaline’s film emphasizes that there is more to Queer history and livelihood than the mainstream narrative, that Black and Trans people face unique circumstances that still ring true to current day.

    The ending of film cuts to LaBeija striking a pose, looking down at the Hudson River, Tribeca Greenway and now-destroyed, Christopher Pier. Walking through the West Village, I finally understood the romanticized version of NYC that my friends knew, the one depicted in TV shows and love songs: brownstones under tree-lined sidewalks, coffee shops with men in thousand-dollar suits and women in their newest pilate sets. It feels ironic that the now gentrified, and home of the world’s generational wealth, was once the place of mass arrests and unfair indictments, the HIV/AIDS epicenter, and the forgotten Women’s House of Detention. This prison was the one-stop shop for punishing waywardism throughout the mid 20th century. Those who “were perceived as the ‘wrong kind of woman’” (Ryan, 2023), those who were openly sexually active, who engaged in sex work, who cross dressed, who had intimate relationship who someone other than a man. Yet, these multifaceted legacies of oppression are mostly forgotten. Today, the prison has been demolished and, in its place, is a sterilized green space with no plaque nor historical marker. This is yet another call to reevaluate our remembrance of history and collective approach towards further activism.

    Sources:

    Clifton, Lucille, “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones” (1987)

    Gross, Terry. “This Forgotten Women’s Prison Helped Cement Greenwich Village’s Queer Identity.” NPR, May 16, 2022. https://www.npr.org/2022/05/16/1098786259/hugh-ryan-queer-history-womens-house-of-detention.

    Ryan, Hugh. The women’s House of Detention: A Queer History of a forgotten prison. New York, NY: Bold Type Books, 2023.

    Tourmaline, “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones” (Short Film) (2017)

    Reply
  20. Emily Chen

    Sexuality refers to how individuals experience and express their sexual feelings and identities. In the documentary Ruth Ellis @ 100 (1999), directed by Yvonne Welbon, sexuality is crucial in exploring the life and legacy of Ruth Ellis, an African-American LGBT rights activist and the oldest openly lesbian individual. The film not only highlights the contributions of Black queer individuals to social and cultural movements but also gives me a new insight into the concepts of “coming out of the closet” within the LGBTQ+ community by Ruth Ellis’s optimistic and open attitudes.

    Ellis grew up in the early 20th century, which was the era of racial discrimination and widespread homophobia. For a Black lesbian woman, these forms of oppression blocked her way from openly expressing her identity or advocating for LGBTQ+ rights. Despite these obstacles, Ellis remained steadfast and actively dedicated herself to supporting the Black LGBTQ+ community. In the film, she says, “I wasn’t in the closet. Never,” reflecting her affirming attitude. Her openness about her sexuality demonstrates resilience and pride in her self-identity. Furthermore, by creating the “Gay Spot,” a safe space for LGBTQ+ individuals—especially within the Black community—to gather, support each other, and engage in activism, Ellis showed her unwavering dedication to her community.

    Her bravery and openness inspired me, especially as she pursued personal achievements like advancing in her academic career and graduating from high school despite societal doubts and oppression. Her passion for life also moved me, as she embraced hobbies like dancing, bowling, painting, and playing the piano. In the film, I saw her vivid life with joy and purpose, staying true to her beliefs and sexual identity while supporting her community despite the systemic oppression of Jim Crow. Additionally, Ruth Ellis’s life challenges social myths about the LGBTQ+ community, particularly those related to aging, identity, and resilience. Living to 101, her continued activism and visibility shattered misconceptions about the limitations of queer people.

    The legacy of Ellis’s life story can be seen in the pride and self-acceptance that shape today’s society. For example, her embrace of her sexuality during a time of severe social and legal discrimination laid the foundation for today’s LGBTQ+ rights movement. Ellis’s refusal to conform to societal pressures mirrors the ongoing fight for LGBTQ+ visibility and acceptance nowadays. As the LGBTQ+ movement continues to mature, her legacy shows itself in the growing recognition of the intersectionality of race, gender, and sexual orientation that makes it possible for today’s activists to fight simultaneously for queer rights and racial justice. This connection highlights how Ellis’s life laid the groundwork for intersectional advocacy, inspiring efforts to dismantle the barriers that marginalize both Black and queer individuals.

    Ruth Ellis’s life story offers robust resilience, resistance, and self-acceptance frameworks. By embracing herself and advocating for others to do the same, Ruth Ellis challenged societal norms and paved the way for future generations to live more openly and authentically. Her legacy inspires the LGBTQ+ community and broader society, fostering greater visibility and acceptance for marginalized identities.

    References:
    Fisher, Yvonne Welbon, dir. Ruth Ellis @ 100. Chicago: Whispering Pines Productions, 1999.

    Reply
  21. Khushi Vakta

    The Queer Newark Oral History Project’s “Ballroom Interlude” highlights the themes of chosen family and the politics of visibility within LGBTQ+ communities, especially in the context of ballroom culture. In my opinion these concepts resonate deeply with both historical struggles and contemporary movements, offering insights into how marginalized communities create spaces of affirmation and challenge societal norms.
    One of the most powerful concepts from “Ballroom Interlude” is the idea of chosen family. In ballroom culture, individuals—many of whom are Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ people—often form “houses” led by a “mother” or “father.” These houses serve as support systems for individuals who may have been rejected by their biological families due to their sexual orientation or gender identity. The ballroom scene thus becomes a space of survival, love, and empowerment. This concept of chosen family continues to be relevant today. For example, in an article by Katherine Allen she described how in contemporary LGBTQ+ activism, organizations like The Trevor Project and Ali Forney Center provide resources and safe spaces for queer youth who face homelessness or familial rejection. Chosen families also play a crucial role in celebratory spaces like Pride parades or smaller, localized gatherings where queer people affirm their identities together. These modern expressions of chosen family show how essential these bonds are to navigating a world that often marginalizes queer individuals.
    The ballroom scene is also a radical act of visibility, offering a space where LGBTQ+ individuals can express their identities boldly and authentically, even in the face of societal erasure. In “Ballroom Interlude”, participants describe how performances and competitions within the ballroom world are acts of defiance, joy, and celebration. In a world that often seeks to silence or render queer people invisible, the ballroom becomes a stage where they can reclaim their narratives. This struggle for visibility mirrors broader contemporary issues, such as debates about drag culture and trans rights. In an article by Jorge Sandoval he described how shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race have brought aspects of queer performance into mainstream culture, helping to normalize LGBTQ+ identities while sparking discussions about appropriation and authenticity. Similarly, the fight for trans rights in legislation and healthcare underscores the importance of being seen and acknowledged. Visibility is both empowering and fraught, as it invites recognition but can also expose individuals to heightened scrutiny and danger.
    Ballroom culture, as captured in “Ballroom Interlude,” reminds us that spaces of joy, creativity, and solidarity are vital forms of resistance. Whether through houses, performance, or activism, the legacy of the ballroom scene continues to inspire and shape contemporary LGBTQ+ movements. It challenges us to think about how we support each other and how we make space for those whose identities have historically been erased.

    Allen, K. R., Allen, J. D., & Goldberg, A. E. 2024. “Trevor Project. In The Sage Encyclopedia of LGBTQ+ STUDIES” (pp. 1469–1470). SAGE Publications, Inc. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781071891414.n507

    Jorge Sandoval. 2018. “The RuPaul Effect: The Exploration of the Costuming Rituals of Drag Culture in Social Media and the Theatrical Performativity of the Male Body in the Ambit of the Everyday” In Theatre Symposium, Vol. 26. University of Alabama Press.

    Queer Newark Oral History Project,. 2024. “Ballroom Interlude.”

    Reply
  22. Yo-Chia Tseng

    Through the works of Gossett and Hayward’s Monica Jones: An Interview, Welboun’s Ruth Ellis @ 100, Parker’s Where Will You Be?, and the various interpretations of Atlantic is a Sea of Bones, the stories of Black queer and trans individuals are presented, revealing their challenges and acts of resistance due to the intersections of race, gender, and sexuality.
    These works collectively illustrate how resistance takes many forms, from public activism and community building to the power of art and direct confrontation. Monica Jones’s fight against discriminatory laws, as depicted in her interview, reveals the systemic inequalities faced by trans women of color and the importance of intersectional activism that addresses both race and gender. For example, her arrest under discriminatory “walking while trans” policies illustrates how trans women of color are unfairly targeted by law enforcement, exposing the deep biases within the justice system. Her resistance shows how individual voices can challenge discrimination and inspire collective action. This resistance echoes Ruth Ellis’s lifelong commitment to creating spaces of care for Black queer youth, as portrayed in Welboun’s documentary. Ellis’s actions demonstrate that activism can be found in everyday acts of kindness and solidarity, which offer safety and support to Black queers who are often marginalized by society.
    Similarly, Parker’s poem Where Will You Be? extends this call for solidarity, prompting the reader to reflect on their role in resisting oppression. The poem’s central question, “Where will you be?”, stresses that staying neutral or passive is not an option, encouraging readers to confront inaction and take an active stance against injustice. This message resonates with Ellis’s community-building and Jones’ political resistance, emphasizing that activism requires both personal reflection and collective action.
    Atlantic is a Sea of Bones, interpreted through Lucille Clifton’s poem and Tourmaline’s short film, ties together the themes of resistance found throughout these works. Clifton’s imagery recalls the trauma of the transatlantic slave trade, connecting this history of suffering to present-day resilience. Tourmaline expands this narrative, blending personal and collective stories to show how Black queer and trans communities carry both the pain of history and the ongoing struggles related to their sexuality and gender identity, demonstrating resilience and hope for change. The film’s symbolic use of the Atlantic Ocean as a metaphor highlights how the trauma of history is integral to the experiences of Black trans individuals today, emphasizing both their unique struggles and their resilience. Ultimately, it envisions new futures through the transformative power of community and collective resistance.
    Together, these pieces reveal that resistance is multifaceted: it can be an act of direct confrontation, the quiet building of community, artistic expression, or a call for solidarity. They remind the reader that activism is not just about grand actions but also about persistence, care, and the determination to create inclusive spaces. These stories inspire the reader to reflect on their own responsibilities in contributing to a more just and equitable world.

    References:
    – Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be” (1978)
    – Welbon, Yvonne. “Ruth Ellis @ 100” (1999)
    – Gossett, Che, and Eva Hayward. “Monica Jones: An Interview.” Transgender Studies Quarterly7, no. 4 (2020): 611-614
    – Tourmaline, “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones” (Short Film) (2017)
    – Clifton, Lucille, “Atlantic is A Sea of Bones” (1987)

    Reply
  23. Julianna Janke

    Humans are obsessed with the apocalypse. We watch movies and shows about zombies, wars, famine, or other society ending phenomena. Have you ever been asked, what would you do in the apocalypse? Most of the time, I normally just say “peace out.” However, what about when it’s not a physical apocalypse but a cultural one. In Pat Parker’s “WHERE WILL YOU BE?,” we are confronted with this question: When they come, what side are you on?

    Parker opens up their speech with an origin story of sorts. They mention boots being polished and the crusade starting. They further by adding how “soul saviors” come in the name of Christ to save them from their sins. This exposition is finalized by “​​… good citizens all parade into voting booths and in self-righteous sanctity X away our right to life.” This really spoke to me as we read this poem shortly after the election. In the aftermath of Trump’s re-election, I felt as if our country had voted away the lives of women, people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, and many other minority groups. This poem was written in 1978 and we are still relating to it in 2024. It’s horrifying and shocking.

    The poem continues into explaining who will be coming and what they will be taking. Parker describes that they won’t come marked as evil, using an example of wearing swastikas. They then describe how they will take and cleanse what they see has perverse, mainly queerness. Hiding partners, or having a child taken from a lesbian mother are some examples provided of the erasing of queer culture. The phrase “It was an act of perversion,” is repeated after each example provided. The repetition of this adds to the idea that a lifestyle that doesn’t conform to society norms or the heterosexual norm, is an act of being perverted. This poem uses this term of perverse to truly extend what queer people live through. Why does it matter who we are attracted to? Why in these tough situations such as “[letting] straight relatives bury our dead and push our lovers away” get caught up in this sense of sexuality, when it should be focused on the loss of a joint loved one?

    This poem ends with a call for unity. Claiming that no-matter your race, religion, sexuality, work status, or hometown, “where will you be When they come?” Will you allow what separates us to control us, or will we fight together for our lives and our country. It doesn’t matter that I’m a heterosexual white Catholic cisgender girl, when the apocalypse comes, I will be ready to fight.

    Reply
  24. Aixmar Parra

    The United States criminal justice system is one, as it participates in high profiling and criminalization of sex workers and the LGBTQ+ community. In particular, those that come from historically marginalized groups, such as transgender and Black individuals, as a system rooted in systemic inequities targets them. These are all intersected by economics and harmful policies that create a lack of resources to break the cycle. Moreover, the issue now transcends over to HIV/AIDS, as safe sex is not in conversation and finds itself being a justification for incarceration. The ACLU foundation reported, “Nearly one in six transgender people have been incarcerated. For trans people of color, the number is one in two” (Holston-Zannell 2019). In result, there are everyday actions that can lead to entering a broken system. Our society must acknowledge and understand the intersectionality of all these factors in order to provide people of color, transgender, and sex worker their respected rights.

    Society has placed institutions and adversities towards the transgender community historically. As the acts of oppressions are all in intersection that tie within gender, sexuality, and race as the instances of the criminal justice system presented. The activist Monica Jones has sparked movement about these issues and taken approaches to reformative actions. In an interview Monica Jones shares, “When we are talking about violence against trans women, as a Black trans woman I always highlight that we are more vulnerable to violence due to the social construction of our identity and the historical trauma of our community…people who are arrested and charged under these HIV-related laws are almost always Black transgender women and sex workers”. Through the words of Monica, society is able to learn and see how these factors are intersected. Moreover, learn from projects like the Outlaw Project, which she founded under the principles of intersectionality, demonstrating the key to addressing these factors together, in order to create a change.

    There must be a continuation of discussion to bring awareness, among understand the struggles of the community. It is key to note of the violence that continues to perpetuate and the lack of ability to protect oneself as a transgender sex worker. Today, November 20th marks as Transgender Day of Rememberance and is an opportunity to recognize the oppression the community has faced, among those who have passed.

    Bibliography:

    Gossett, Che, and Eva Hayward. 2020. “Monica Jones.” TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly 7 (4): 611–14. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-8665271.

    Holston-Zannell, LaLa B. 2019. “Reducing HIV Transmission Requires Decriminalizing Sex Work | ACLU.” American Civil Liberties Union. December 1, 2019. https://www.aclu.org/news/hiv/reducing-hiv-transmission-requires-decriminalizing-sex-work.

    Reply
  25. Samir Jamdar

    In the 1978 poem, “Where Will You Be?” by Pat Parker, I was captivated by the stylistic elements and rhetorical techniques Parker drew upon, to highlight the devastating oppression black feminists faced during this period. Written from the perspective of an individual who identified as a black lesbian feminist, Parker’s poem explicitly outlined the egregious gender violence against black women, especially those who are severely marginalized by their sexual orientation and gender. In addition, Parker also introduces a novel definition of perversion which serves as the basis for the encouragement of black women of all different orientations to seek agency and challenge their existing positions within society.

    Throughout her work, Parker made repeated references to the motif of “perversion” which is believed to have a dichotomous definition. In modern day, perversion is associated with acts of corruption within an institution or group of people. In Parker’s view, “every time we watched a queer hassled in the streets and said nothing – It was an act of perversion” (Parker, Stanza 9). By framing actions such as verbal and physical abuse, neglect, and sexual violence as perversions, Parker defines the concept of perversion as the systemic and persistent toleration of dehumanizing acts committed by external society. In particular, acts are committed with the intent to inflict great harm on individuals belonging to marginalized communities, especially those identifying with the LGBTQ+ community. Therefore, when individuals remain indifferent and possess little autonomy, this system perpetuates terminal oppression and inequality, which results in the deteriorating of societal values altogether and greater perversion within the general population.

    Moreover, while the concept of perversion as described by Pat Parker is rather unique, the concept came into effect earlier in the 20th century, during the Stonewall Uprising of 1969. During this time, police were frequently raiding gay bars in New York City, and a series of riots and protests following the raiding of a bar marked an important milestone for the LGBTQ+ population as these protests “fundamentally changed the discourse surrounding LGBTQ+ activism in the United States” (Library of Congress). These riots not only provided a platform to the previously marginalized LGBTQ+ community by allowing them to seek justice against the acts of perversion they had tirelessly endured, but also gave them an opportunity to rebel against the distorted and perverse values upheld by society at the time.

    In response to the issues centered around the concept of perversion, Parker emphasized the need for urgency and awareness of the situation, so that immediate action may be taken. In her closing statements, Parker writes, “They will come for the perverts and where will you be When they come?” (Parker, Stanza 25). The use of the rhetorical question in her concluding remarks underscored the pertinency of the situation and the significance of taking a stand for equality and social justice. Ultimately, it is up to today’s black and LGBTQ+ community to inspire change and be the light for a brighter future, one relieved of the complications associated with perversion.

    References:
    Metcalf, Meg. 2019. “Research Guides: LGBTQ+ Studies: A Resource Guide: Stonewall Era and Uprising.” Guides.loc.gov. Library of Congress. June 1, 2019. https://guides.loc.gov/lgbtq-studies/stonewall-era.

    Parker, Pat. (1978) 2016. Where Will You Be? Sinister Wisdom and A Midsummer Night’s Press. https://webpages.scu.edu/ftp/lgarber/courses/eng67F10texts/ParkerWhereWillYouBe.pdf.

    Reply
  26. Angelina Te-Yun Chiang

    Marginalized communities often used performance as a space for self-expression, transforming it into a powerful response to social exclusion. Hip-hop and the ballroom scene are two significant examples of this phenomenon. Both arose from the need to challenge societal oppression, offering platforms for resilience and identity.

    In hip-hop, terms like “ill,” “sick,” or even “retarded” often appear in lyrics, which resulted in two contrasting interpretations: 1) Disability justice activists argue that using such terms carries harmful connotations, perpetuating ableism — a “system of oppression that privileges able-bodied people and culture over and above those with disabilities” (Bailey 2011, 142). This critique is not limited to hip hop; current pop culture faces similar accusations of ableism in song lyrics, as seen in Beyoncé’s Renaissance, where the word “spaz” was used. From this perspective, these words reinforce stereotypes, alienate individuals with disabilities, and deepen social divides.

    On the other hand, 2) many hip-hop artists see these terms as metaphors for excellence, strength, and qualities that empower marginalized groups rather than diminish them. This perspective aligns with the concept of disidentification – “recycling and rethinking encoded meaning” – coined by José Muñoz. Taking this as a precedent, Moya Bailey, in “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music,” challenges us to move beyond a simplistic “binary of positive and negative” language (Bailey 2011, 147). Instead, she encourages us to view language through a “non-linear dimension,” where its “multi-dimensional complexity” is embraced (Bailey 2011, 147). By doing so, we can critically examine how marginalized communities reclaim language while addressing its potential harm.

    Meanwhile, in the ballroom scene, the performance takes center stage in a different way. The ballroom offers a space for gender fluidity and creativity, redefining what it traditionally means to be masculine, feminine, or anything in between. Ballroom culture celebrates self-expression and identity through gender categories, such as “Butch Queens Up in Drag,” “Femme Queens,” “Butches,” “Women,” “Men/Trade,” and “Butch Queens” (Bailey 2013, 36).

    These categories allow participants to experiment with and embody diverse gender presentations, challenging societal norms restricting identity. However, just as hip-hop’s metaphors can reinforce ableism, ballroom culture also faces contradictions as categories like “realness” can sometimes reinforce binary ideas of gender, rewarding participants who convincingly perform traditional femininity or masculinity.

    Overall, hip-hop and ballroom culture show us the transformative power of reclaiming language and identity. At the same time, they challenge us to think critically about the spaces we create. Embracing these complexity allows us to recognize these marginalized spaces while continuing to push ourselves toward a more equitable future.

    References:

    Bailey, Marlon M. “Butch Queens Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit.” Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press (2013): 33-58.

    Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” Blackness and disability: Critical examinations and cultural interventions (2011): 141-148.

    Reply
  27. Betty Belew

    One important concept that emerges in both Moya Bailey’s “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music” and Marlon Bailey’s Butch Queen Up in Pumps is the idea of “performance labor.” Performance labor can be defined as the creative and embodied work marginalized communities engage in to navigate oppression, reclaim power, and build resilience. In hip-hop, as one of the ways Moya Bailey discussed, disability metaphors like “the illest” signify not just skill or authenticity but also the labor of transforming societal narratives. Artists use these metaphors to convey mastery and survival in the face of systemic oppression, repurposing illness as a source of strength. While the use of such terms can remain “oppressive” in some respects to disabled individuals, their redefinition opens up new meanings that some interpret as empowering. This linguistic labor parallels the physical and performative labor described in Marlon Bailey’s discussion of Ballroom culture, particularly the concept of “realness”. In Ballroom culture, categories like “realness” require participants to perform heteronormative or cisgender ideals so convincingly that they “pass” in the broader, often hostile, society. This act is not just artistic, it is survival. Bailey emphasizes that these performances are deeply tied to the gender system of Ballroom culture, where categories like “Butch Queen,” “Fem Queen,” and others expand and reimagine gender possibilities. This labor involves embodying fluid gender and sexual identities, which simultaneously subvert and negotiate dominant societal norms. Both of these cases highlight how performance, whether verbal, physical, or embodied, becomes a site for survival and community building. In contemporary society, the idea of performance labor is visible in movements like #CripTheVote, which uses social media and public platforms to amplify the voices of disabled individuals in political discourse. Activists perform the dual labor of advocating for rights while also challenging ableist perceptions of disability as inherently limiting. Similarly, in Ballroom culture, the performances at balls are more than artistic displays; they represent the labor of creating alternative spaces of belonging and resistance in the face of systemic racism, homophobia, and transphobia. This tradition is echoed in popular media, such as the television series Pose, which dramatizes the historical and cultural significance of Ballroom performances while showcasing their roots in survival and resilience. Historically, this concept of performance labor can be traced back to the Harlem Renaissance, where artists used poetry, music, and performance to challenge racism and celebrate Black identity. Rent parties, for instance, not only provided financial relief but also acted as cultural incubators, where marginalized communities performed and celebrated their identities. Similarly, during the AIDS crisis, groups like ACT UP used theatrical protests to demand visibility and action, demonstrating how performance labor can critique systemic failures while fostering solidarity. Both Baileys illustrate that performance labor is not just about survival but also about creating new possibilities. By transforming narratives around disability, gender, and sexuality, marginalized communities turn performance into a powerful tool for resistance, healing, and imagining alternative futures. Whether in a hip-hop track, a Ballroom competition, or a digital movement, performance labor continues to challenge oppressive structures while carving out spaces of belonging and agency.

    Bailey, Marlon M. Butch Queen Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2013, 33–58.
    Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions, 141-148. 2011.

    Reply
    1. Betty Belew

      Edited version:

      One important concept that emerges in both Moya Bailey’s “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music” and Marlon Bailey’s Butch Queen Up in Pumps is the idea of “performance labor.” Performance labor can be defined as the creative and embodied work marginalized communities engage in to navigate oppression, reclaim power, and build resilience. In hip-hop, as one of the ways Moya Bailey discussed, disability metaphors like “the illest” signify not just skill or authenticity but also the labor of transforming societal narratives. Artists use these metaphors to convey mastery and survival in the face of systemic oppression, repurposing illness as a source of strength. While the use of such terms can remain “oppressive” in some respects to disabled individuals, their redefinition opens up new meanings that some interpret as empowering. This linguistic labor parallels the physical and performative labor described in Marlon Bailey’s discussion of Ballroom culture, particularly the concept of “realness”. In Ballroom culture, categories like “realness” require participants to perform heteronormative or cisgender ideals so convincingly that they “pass” in the broader, often hostile, society. This act is not just artistic, it is survival. Bailey emphasizes that these performances are deeply tied to the gender system of Ballroom culture, where categories like “Butch Queen,” “Fem Queen,” and others expand and reimagine gender possibilities. This labor involves embodying fluid gender and sexual identities, which simultaneously subvert and negotiate dominant societal norms. Both of these cases highlight how performance, whether verbal, physical, or embodied, becomes a site for survival and community building. In contemporary society, the idea of performance labor is visible in movements like #CripTheVote, which uses social media and public platforms to amplify the voices of disabled individuals in political discourse. Activists perform the dual labor of advocating for rights while also challenging ableist perceptions of disability as inherently limiting. Similarly, in Ballroom culture, the performances at balls are more than artistic displays; they represent the labor of creating alternative spaces of belonging and resistance in the face of systemic racism, homophobia, and transphobia. This tradition is echoed in popular media, such as the television series Pose, which dramatizes the historical and cultural significance of Ballroom performances while showcasing their roots in survival and resilience. Historically, this concept of performance labor can be traced back to the Harlem Renaissance, where artists used poetry, music, and performance to challenge racism and celebrate Black identity. Rent parties, for instance, not only provided financial relief but also acted as cultural incubators, where marginalized communities performed and celebrated their identities. Both Baileys illustrate that performance labor is not just about survival but also about creating new possibilities. By transforming narratives around disability, gender, and sexuality, marginalized communities turn performance into a powerful tool for resistance, healing, and imagining alternative futures. Whether in a hip-hop track, a Ballroom competition, or a digital movement, performance labor continues to challenge oppressive structures while carving out spaces of belonging and agency.

      Bailey, Marlon M. Butch Queen Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2013, 33–58.
      Bailey, Moya. “‘The Illest’: Disability as Metaphor in Hip Hop Music.” In Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions, 141-148. 2011.

      Reply
  28. Maheen Khan

    The word sexuality seems to spark up a variety of reactions and emotions when mentioned. It carries a somewhat tarnished reputation simply due to the presence of “sex” as its prefix, a lingering word that many still view as scandalous or even taboo. Furthermore, those of the LGBTQ+ community, young and old, regardless of race or gender have endured a great deal of oppression and stigma simply for expressing their authentic identities. However, just observing this level of oppression is not enough to grasp what lies deeper within the histories of oppression and marginalization. It is essential to examine the intersectionalities that enhance and complicate the experiences of LGBTQ+ women of color, especially the intersectionalities of race, gender, and sexuality with black women.

    Acknowledgment of these intersectionalities is necessary to truly understand the complexities of the experiences black women of the LGBTQ+ community face and endure. Ruth Ellis, a black openly lesbian LGBTQ+ activist, is an excellent figure who demonstrates what it means to be black and queer in a world that actively oppresses both. In the documentary Ruth Ellis @ 100 (Director Yvonne Welboun, 1999), Ellis talks about her dual experiences of facing discrimination for being a black lesbian in a day and age where little progression had been made for LGBTQ+ rights.

    The documentary emphasizes that we cannot possibly fathom the extent of hardship Ellis faced without fully understanding how those multiple areas of oppression formed her very unique experiences and outlook on the expression of sexuality. Ellis herself, despite her older age, is presented to have known, comfortable, and open with her sexuality from a very young age, without necessarily feeling like she had to owe anyone an explanation for who she is and who she loves. She was shown to develop beautiful relationships with both herself and her identity through her unique experiences, as well as with other members of the LGBTQ+ community who were also oppressed but didn’t necessarily have the same intersection of oppression that Ellis did, further enhancing Ellis’ individual identity while also allowing the branching of a community all united under expression of sexuality.

    An additional fascinating angle of approach Ellis takes when discussing her sexuality is the question of what would happen if there was no established “closet” in the first place. In this day and age, we have become hyper-fixated on the idea that “coming out of the closet” is what it means to live free without having to hide one’s identity, but Ellis proposes a fresh idea of living life freely without having to come out of the closet in the first place. This lens of viewing sexuality as both part of our identity, but also not having to necessarily consume the identity that others perceive us as, is a lens that should continue to be thought of as the fight against homophobia and oppression of the LGBTQ+ community continues to progress in today’s world.

    References:
    Ruth Ellis @ 100. Directed by Yvonne Welbon, 1999.

    Reply
  29. Kennedy Nieves

    Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be?” is a powerful piece that addresses the constant threat of discrimination and persecution faced by the LGBTQ+ community and other marginalized groups. This poem uses lots of descriptive verbiage to portray the fear and urgency of defending one’s identity in society. In my analysis I will focus on the ideas of representation and intersectionality that are highlighted in the poem.

    Representation is important in every aspect of life from media and politics to personal interactions. Pat Parker’s poem talks about the danger of being “defined as opposite,” which can lead to exclusion and a feeling of being “other” or “less than.” The poem explains how a lack of representation and overall visibility can allow for discrimination and other exclusionary practices to fly under the radar. In other words, when marginalized groups are not heard/seen it can make it easier to diminish, invalidate or even ignore their experiences all together.

    In general, we have seen efforts to increase representation in society whether that is through diverse casting in media or more inclusive hiring practices in workplaces. These efforts are extremely vital in creating a world in which everyone feels seen and valued. It is important to remember that representation should go beyond just the existence of these marginalized groups, but also move toward educating society on these groups to promote inclusivity and understanding.

    Another idea that Pat Parker focused on was intersectionality. It is a term that we have discussed at great length in this class but it was especially evident in this poem. Pat Parker explains that oppression does not discriminate and anyone who is perceived as “perverse” may become subject to discrimination. Throughout the poem Pat Parker lists a sleuth of different identities across different racial, geographic, and even social backgrounds to underscore this idea that nobody is “safe” from the threat of discrimination.

    Today, we see movements like Black Lives Matter which show the power and necessity of representation and intersectionality. These movements highlight the diverse experiences within marginalized communities and the push for inclusivity on all fronts.

    As a whole, Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be?” serves as a reminder of the ongoing battle against discrimination and the power and importance of sticking up for oneself and each other. It is only through compassion and advocacy that we can pave a way forward. So where will you be…both physically and socially? When the time for change comes, will you be on the side of complacency or will you be marching into battle to advocate for those who need your support? Will you be proud to tell your children or children who and what you voted for? We must always think about the future we are creating for those who come after us.

    Reference
    Parker, Pat. “Where Will You Be.” 1978.

    Reply
  30. Sean Yang

    Language is a powerful tool capable of both oppression and liberation. Moya Bailey’s perspective of ableist language in hip-hop helps us to examine the language reclamation. She highlights how terms like “retarded” and “dumb” are reappropriated in hip-hop culture as expressions of defiance and freedom while perpetuating the oppression of these words originally stigmatized. Although this empowered some, it alienated others in marginalization, which resonates with my community, LGBTQ+, where the reclamation of slurs is the tension between trauma and empowerment.
    In my community, the term “queer” was once used as a weapon to demean and exclude non-heteronormative people, but it has evolved into a powerful symbol of resistance and inclusion, challenging rigid classifications of gender and sexual orientation. However, its reappropriation remains highly controversial. For older LGBTQ+ individuals who have lived through stigma and violence, the term may still evoke painful memories, making it difficult to become a unifying identity. This intra-community conflict reflects Bailey’s observation that in hip-hop, what is liberating for some also reinforces the system of marginalization for others.
    As a Taiwanese, I find Bailey’s analysis relevant when reflecting on language and activism in Taiwan’s LGBTQ+ community. Taiwan, as the first Asian country to legalize same-sex marriage, has become the leader in promoting LGBTQ+ visibility and equality. Yet, the reclamation of language within this progressive framework has similar challenges. For example, the term “niang,” means effeminacy in gay men. However, it is a derogatory word for leading tensions in the community. However, recently, some have reclaimed “niang” to celebrate nonconformity and fluidity in gender expression. Taiwanese LGBTQ+ activists have even reframed its meaning, turning what was once an insult for gay people into a badge of pride that challenges toxic masculinity and “uplifts” effeminacy and individuality.
    This linguistic tension underscores the struggles inherent in reclamation: while empowering for some, reclaimed terms may alienate others by resurfacing the trauma of their original use. Bailey criticizes ableist language in hip-hop and highlights this paradox, which shows how reclamation cannot fully erase the historical and systemic wounds tied to such language. In Taiwan’s LGBTQ+ activism, this tension plays out in ongoing debates about how language should be used to unify, rather than divide the community.
    Ultimately, Bailey challenges us to ask: Who benefits from reclaiming certain words, and who remains excluded? Whether in hip-hop or LGBTQ+ activism, reclamation allowed us to reshape narratives but also tells us we need to confront the enduring oppression that language carries.
    References:
    Bailey, Marlon M. Butch Queens Up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2013.

    Reply
  31. Melanie Liu

    Ruth Ellis’s life, as portrayed in the documentary “Living with Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100”, reshaped my understanding of the concept of “coming out of the closet.” I once thought coming out was a singular, personal moment to declare one’s sexual orientation or gender identity. However, Ellis reframes “coming out” as unnecessary if one lives with pride in one’s sexuality and is resistant when facing oppression. She stated, “I wasn’t in the…closet. Never,” She rejected the closet concept and refused to hide her identity. For Ellis, openly living as a Black lesbian in the early 20th century in the face of intense racial and sexual discrimination highlights how sexuality is both personal and political. Her openness directly challenged the structure of power that demanded silence from Black and queer, paving the way for cultural recognition and empowerment within the Black LGBTQ community. Her Detroit home, famously known as the “Gay Spot,” became a place for LGBTQ+ youth, offering them safety, affirmation, and a space to embrace their sexual identities. This approach to bringing visibility to the lives of LGBTQ individuals was impactful, encouraging them to accept their sexual orientation and reject societal shame.
    Ellis’s story resonates with Pat Parker’s poem Where Will You Be? (1978), which addresses to anyone who remains silent in the face of oppression and speaks to the need for solidarity within movements to fight for justice. Her question, “They will come for the perverts, and where will you be when they come?” challenges individuals to stand firm in their identities and fight against the multiple oppression, particularly racial and gender violence. Like Ellis, Parker seeks to make those who face intersecting forms of challenges, such as Black lesbians, visible and ask them to stand together in solidarity to confront their true identity.

    This advocacy for visibility and accepting one’s sexuality extends to contemporary figures such as Billy Porter, particularly in his portrayal of Pray Tell on Pose. Porter’s character honors the resilience of Black queer communities during the HIV/AIDS crisis. Through Pray Tell, Pose tells the silenced stories of those erased by racism, homophobia, and the HIV/AIDS epidemic. The series, much like Ellis’s “Gay Spot,” reminds of the necessity of creating spaces for affirmation and empowerment for those marginalized audiences. In an interview, Porter said, “I don’t care what anyone has to say,” which shows the pride in his sexuality and identity, combatting against the social oppression. Porter demonstrates that embracing one’s sexual preference liberates the individual and empowers marginalized groups to resist societal exclusion.

    Through Ruth Ellis’s life, Parker’s poem, and Porter’s film, they show the power of visibility in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights and liberation. By choosing authenticity in a world that demands silence, they illuminate a path for others to follow, creating a lasting legacy of resistance and celebrating one’s sexuality.

    Reference:
    Living with pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100. Film. Our Film Works, 1999.
    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be? Woman in the Moon Press, 1978.
    Billy Porter Breaks a 14-Year Silence. The Hollywood Reporter, 2021.

    Reply
  32. Emma Li

    In this unit, I was introduced to strategies employed by marginalized groups to navigate societal stigma and reclaim their cultural identities. One such strategy is the framework of disidentification, a concept developed by José Esteban Muñoz. Disidentification refers to the process of reinterpreting and repurposing societal norms, symbols, or texts in ways that allow marginalized groups to express their identities while simultaneously challenging the stigma attached to them. For example, a queer person of color might subvert a stereotype in a way that affirms their identity and resists societal expectations (Bell 2011, 141–48). This framework highlights how creative, subversive approaches can blend cultural expression with acts of resistance.

    The Hyphy movement in California hip-hop illustrates disidentification as a strategy for reclaiming identity. Emerging in response to gang violence and systemic oppression, Hyphy is characterized by exaggerated expressions, high-energy beats, and terms like “going dumb” (Bell 2011, 141–48). For the Black community, this culture offers a sense of liberation, as artists reappropriate stigmatized expressions to assert visibility and challenge societal marginalization. By doing so, Hyphy redefines hip-hop as a space for resistance and empowerment.

    However, the movement’s reliance on ableist language highlights its limitations in addressing systemic oppression. Terms like “dumb” and “retarded,” while recontextualized, retain harmful connotations that devalue intelligence and reinforce negative stereotypes about the Black community. As Moya Bailey critiques, this ableist framework perpetuates social segregation and limits access to resources for marginalized individuals (Bell 2011, 141–48). Thus, while Hyphy challenges oppression through self-expression, its use of oppressive language unintentionally reinforces the very hierarchies it seeks to resist.

    Moreover, the LGBTQ+ ballroom culture offers another example of a transgressive approach to reclaiming self-identity and resilience. Within this space, members, including Femme Queens and Butch Queens, engage in “communal performance labor” to challenge rigid gender and sexual norms. For instance, performers deliberately embody “thug masculinity” to subvert the stereotypical “hard and aggressive” hypermasculinity associated with Black men (Bailey 2013, 33–58). By exaggerating these traits, ballroom participants reveal the artificial and fluid nature of gender and sexuality, rebelling against hegemonic norms.

    However, while these performances disrupt oppressive narratives, they cannot fully dismantle the structural forces that sustain stigma against queer individuals. The use of “realness” as a performance strategy, where participants convincingly embody heteronormative roles, reflects the survival-based pressure to conform to dominant societal expectations (Bailey 2013, 33–58). Thus, while ballroom culture provides a powerful space for resistance and self-love, it also reveals the persistent constraints faced by LGBTQ+ individuals in navigating systemic oppression.

    In conclusion, the transgressive strategies in Hyphy culture and ballroom performances reveal empowerment and limitations. For example, black men in hip-hop often perpetuate their stereotypical identity while also targeting other marginalized groups, such as women and disabled individuals, showing how one group’s reclaimed language can harm another. This is especially damaging for those who are multiply marginalized, like Black queer individuals, who face overlapping oppressions. Hence, it is crucial to apply a more nuanced lens that incorporates disability, queer, critical race, and feminist theories to recognize how stigma management strategies affect these communities interconnectedly to foster collective resistance against oppression among marginalized groups.

    References:
    Bailey, Marlon M. 2013. Butch Queens up in Pumps: Gender, Performance, and Ballroom Culture in Detroit. Ann Arbor University Of Michigan Press.
    Bell, Christopher M. 2011. Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions. MSU Press.

    Reply
  33. Adison Smith

    Growing up in the modern world, I have been able to witness the impacts that representation and advocacy have on communities through the media. These communities usually have an identity that they are pushing for the protection and approval of; however, these movements rarely proceed in a linear fashion since they contradict the heteronormative status quo that is comfortable for society. When the emergence of acceptance of sexual identities began to form, a rise of anti-LGBTQ+ statements was strewn all over the media. Stereotypical statements regarding “brashness,” “promiscuity,” and “flamboyancy” fueled the opposition to adopt a cis-straight sexual identity as standard and any deviations as wrong. The constant repression of people’s sexual identities leads to secrecy surrounding events, emotions, and beliefs so people hide. It has gotten to the point today where we are so casual about this oppression against specific identities that terms like “gay,” “homo,” and “fruity” integrate themselves into regular conversations as insults. Pat Parker recognizes this societal comfort surrounding the aversion to the LGBTQ+ community in her poem “Where Will You Be?” Interestingly, though, rather than focus on the oppressors, she uses her poem as a call to action for the oppressed to regain control of their identities and redefine them to be accurately representative.
    Sexuality is a term that is often incorrectly defined. Many think it is synonymous with gender or sex, but each of these is uniquely different. Sexual identity is the idea that a person’s sexual orientation influences many facets of their life, not just romantic. It is central to personal and social identities influencing relationships, sense of self, passions, and societal interactions. Identifying as part of the LGBTQ+ community is not just about who they are attracted to; rather, it shapes how they perceive themselves in a heteronormative society. This environment is not conducive to one’s self-expression in such a way that it deviates from the “normal.” The intersection between sexual and societal oppression causes people to suppress or deny their identity due to culture enforcing shame, fear, and alienation. Sexuality is a core component of identity, and Parker aimed to emphasize the importance of protecting it.
    In her 1978 poem “Where Will You Be,” Parker directly addresses this societal repression of queerness and its consequences. She asks, “Where will we all be when they come?” referring to lay people uprooting their lives to take over businesses, jobs, and homes. To contradict “normal,” Parker uses “perverse” to describe all those that don’t fit into society’s version of “normal.” Perverse has been historically used in a derogatory sense to dehumanize queer people, but Parker reclaims the word to highlight the contradictory actions of the oppressed. She states we are perverse for not being authentic, defending others, speaking up, acting out, standing firm, and holding true to our beliefs. To go against our sexual identity is an act of “perversion” in and of itself. It betrays authenticity. Pat Parker warns that silence and conformity will not save you “when they come.” Historically, systems will try to legislate and regulate queer identities, under the guise of preserving morality. This is reflected today with events like Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” Law in 2022, Texas’s Ban of Gender Affirming Care for Minors in 2023, and Tennessee’s Anti-Drag Show laws in 2023. All of which aim to erase the identity of the queer community. Parker is pointing at events like these and claiming that passive activism does not prevent harm, rather, it empowers it. She calls on us to show up in the face of oppression for the sake of the community and collective strength. To stay firm in one’s beliefs becomes a form of resistance by reclaiming agency and defying a ridged world.
    Pat Parker’s poem “Where Will You Be?” highlights the importance of the sexual identity of an individual by showing how it is being taken away and calling for resistance. By not reclaiming our identities and opposing the heteronormative culture, we risk perpetuating a system of growing oppression for the sake of fear and discomfort. Sexual identity plays a massive role in each of our lives, and it would be an act of betrayal to allow it to be redefined on other’s terms and used negatively in society.

    References

    – Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be? Woman in the Moon Press, 1978.

    – “The Dangerous Consequences of Florida’s ‘Don’t Say Gay’ Bill on LGBTQ+ Youth in Florida.” Georgetown Journal of Gender and the Law | Georgetown Law, http://www.law.georgetown.edu/gender-journal/online/volume-xxiii-online/the-dangerous-consequences-of-floridas-dont-say-gay-bill-on-lgbtq-youth-in-florida.

    – Melhado, William, and Asad Jung. “Texas Supreme Court Upholds Transition-related Care Ban.” The Texas Tribune, 28 June 2024, http://www.texastribune.org/2024/06/28/texas-supreme-court-gender-affirming-care.

    -Restrepo, Manuela López. “The anti-drag bills sweeping the U.S. are straight from history’s playbook.” NPR, 6 Mar. 2023, http://www.npr.org/2023/03/06/1161452175/anti-drag-show-bill-tennessee-trans-rights-minor-care-anti-lgbtq-laws.

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  34. Lauren Purnell

    As we watched Pat Parker recite her 1978 poem “Where Will You Be?”, I noticed a resemblance to Gil Scott-Heron’s rap from the early 1970s, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” They spoke in a similar cadence, and both poems communicate urgency during a political and social turning point. Scott-Heron and Parker also masterfully use specific examples, rather than sweeping generalizations. While Scott-Heron focuses on Black liberation, Parker specifically calls attention to the ways in which homophobia can manifest in sneaky, less overt ways.

    When homophobia is discussed, it begins and ends with physical violence towards gay men and women. This is not what Parker chooses to highlight in her poem. Rather, she highlights the ways in which straight people perpetuate homophobia and uphold structures of heteronormativity on a day-to-day basis. Pat Parker uses repetition to enforce this point, in several stanzas each beginning with “Everytime we” and ending with “It was an act of perversion.” Take the third stanza of this pattern:

    “Everytime we heard,
    ‘I don’t mind gays
    but why must they
    be blatant?’ and said nothing —
    It was an act of perversion.”

    This stanza points out how microaggressions such as believing gay people are blatant or too proud of their sexuality are harmful and stigmatizing to the LGBTQ community. Microaggressions such as these affect LGBTQ+ people of all groups. It can be easy for white, cisgender, and affluent gay people to ignore movements for change when it doesn’t affect them. Parker points out in a later stanza that all LGBTQ people are affected by homophobia and government-sanctioned oppression, regardless of what job they have, how “gay” they look, or what religion they are. Parker is not asking whether they will come, but when they will come.

    References
    Parker, Pat. “Where Will You Be?” 1978.

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  35. Ella Mysinger

    In both the documentary “Living with Pride: Ruth Ellis @100” and Pat Parker’s “Where Will You Be” the idea of being vocal with embracing one’s sexuality due to the idea of heteronormativity and defying discrimination are both discussed. In the documentary about Ruth Ellis, she discussed the importance of living authentically and creating spaces of acceptance in order to empower marginalized communities. Ellis, an openly lesbian Black woman in the 20th century challenged societal norms through living her most authentic life and not conforming to the societal expectations to be heterosexual. This reminded me of when I learned in my English class about the idea of heteronormativity, the idea that heterosexuality is the norm from childhood, there is this idea of heteronormativity where children are put into categories based on their gender and assumed sexuality. These assumptions directly influence the media they consume, influencing their views on how they should behave and live their lives.
    Recently the concept of “coming out of the closet” has been popularized, however, for Ruth Ellis, this was not commonplace due to the dangers that living a queer life entangled. There is a fascination in our culture about finding out someone’s sexuality, as the assumption is heterosexual and that any deviation is viewed as “unusual” and a topic worth discussing.

    In the poem by Pat Parker, she takes this idea further by directly addressing those who remain complicit through silence, asking them to confront their role in perpetuating oppression. This directly ties into heteronormativity as it exists due to silence and inaction. While Ellis’s life showcases courage and resistance toward heteronormativity, Parker’s poem challenges the broader structures and individuals that enforce these norms. This demand for accountability reminds me of movements today such as the Black Lives Matter movement where activists fought against how silence is an endorsement of the racism and violence that occurred. Parker highlights how silence has allowed systemic homophobia and violence against marginalized communities to thrive, without any resistance. She takes the stance that solidarity has to be paired with actions in order to see real change occur. Parker’s use of the word “pervert” is especially striking. Parker reclaims this word which was used as a slur against gay men and flips its meaning, using it to point out the true “perversity” where society punishes any type of love outside of the heterosexual norm. This includes homosexuality, having sex outside of marriage not for procreation, and BDSM for example.

    Both pieces address the issues of visibility as a queer Black individual. Both pieces remind us that staying silent is not a neutral stance but an active choice we make to maintain the status quo. It reminds us of the importance and power of using our voices to not be complacent to injustices and how small steps can help to defy these systems of oppression.

    References
    Ruth Ellis @100. Directed by Yvonne Welborn, 1999.
    Parker, Pat “Where Will You Be.” 1978.

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