BuskFilms

I first saw Nobody Passes Perfectly, a Germany documentary and one of the latest additions to BuskFilms’ catalogue, at a UK film festival in 2009. It had an indelible impact on my understanding of gender, sexuality and trans identity, and I’ve been talking it up to friends ever since. Beautifully and compassionately shot, it is certainly one to ruminate on and, in my view, only improves with repeat viewing. To celebrate its new found wide availability, I was keen to hear and share others’ reactions upon watching the film for the first time:

Scott Larson, USA

Nobody Passes Perfectly introduces itself as open-minded, and could be described as open-ended. The film never introduces the speakers, offers a back-story, nor places them in a narrative of before-and-after transition. Rather, the camera places the viewer in the position of a “fly on the wall” in a series of conversations and vignettes focusing on the lives and transitions of trans-masculine individuals.

The film means to be intimate, and feels familiar to me as a trans-man: certainly I have had conversations much like those in the film. Like its framing, the film leaves open the questions of what manhood and masculinity mean, and why it matters in the first place. Moreover, the film allows questions of masculinity to be in tension with categories of sexuality. It neither resolves nor covers over the often-uncomfortable fit between gender transition and categories of sexuality that rely on seemingly fixed or well-defined gender. It asks critical questions about the value of bodies and the film’s speakers insist that bodies matter—how they look, how they feel, and how they allow one to feel at home or out of place in social worlds.

The openness of the film is its greatest asset, but I wonder if the film’s focus on masculinity leaves open the suggestion that masculinity somehow stands outside or apart from other major forms of identity. That is, masculinity seemed complex and nuanced, but femininity and women less so, and the film did not touch on issues of race, class, immigration, access to health care.

While I don’t expect that every project can or should address every issue, the strength of the film is that it opens the door to further questions, and those are some of the questions I pose in thinking more about the film. I would recommend it as a resource to people who are thinking personally about their own gender identity, but also to people who want to know more about gender identity broadly and engage in further discussions—either personal or academic—about different ways that people engage issues of genders, bodies, and sexualities.

Greg Sensing, US

Nobody Passes Perfectly is a smart, gorgeous film. I really enjoyed the fly-on-the-wall perspective, rather than having different people talking at the camera, conducting another “Transgender 101 class.” It’s nice to see more human, real conversations about what gender identity really means.

There are no “rules on how to be a man” but more discussion about what that even means, and allows that not every transgender person is interested in trading one binary gender experience for another one. There’s far more nuance and complexity in gender identity and expression, for every person. It’s great we get to eavesdrop in on those conversations.

The notion that transgender people might not want to just be a man or just be a woman, that maybe we enjoy “being a freak” because it’s awesome to be transgender, is sadly a really radical idea in a lot of documentaries on the subject, just because society is still (slowly) wrapping its collective brain around the concept. Reality is so much more interesting than that.

Kai Côté, Canada

A few parts in the movie really resonated for me. One is how it’s brought up that, even if it might take years for someone to acknowledge they need to transition, when it’s realized it feels like it was always meant to be. It becomes obvious and clear: it needs to happen. However, it can still be very hard to express the process behind it, feeling whole and real without necessarily having to attach a label to it or try to fit in anywhere, to just be and do what is needed to bring happiness.

Another compellingly made point is that, for some trans-men, it’s not so much ‘passing’ as a man [that matters] but more so not being pressed into a female mould. I can relate to that. I’m more concerned with not being seen as a woman than being seen as a man. It opens up a whole new world of gender possibilities to be whoever I want to be by not being seen as a woman. But I also don’t only want to be seen as a man because that would only be a part of myself.

I really like how it’s brought to our attention that cis men can also feel like they don’t fit in according to the stereotype of what it is to be a man, or feeling like a man but not the man that society wants you to be. Transgender or not, we can all feel like we don’t fit in at some point in our life.

Ruth Pearce, UK

This is a gentle, thoughtful, reflective film. It doesn’t really feel like there’s a clear beginning or end to any of the narratives that lie at its heart: instead, thoughts and feelings ebb and flow as two transmasculine individuals explore gender with partners and friends.

I enjoyed the way in which gender and identity were portrayed as fluid, complex, deeply personal yet intimately linked to others. I almost wish I could have watched a film like this prior to my own transition: when I wondered how it felt to experience hormone therapy; whether I would become a different person, and how this would impact my relationship. Ultimately, everyone responds differently to the changes that come with both physical and social shifts in gender.

Similarly, I felt the tableaux benefited from multiple perspectives on gender itself. There were none of the essentialist assumptions that are all too present within mainstream trans documentaries: instead, we see individuals discussing hormone therapy and the concept of manhood in terms of what felt right for them.

Of course, the spectre of discrimination was ever-present. One participant suggested that he took testosterone because he could no longer deal with street harassment, and there were several reflections upon how others might react negatively to the changes that come with transition. Nevertheless, the overall mood is one of quiet celebration, lauding human diversity and individuality within a complicated world.

Please feel free to add your own comments to this thread, or under the film itself.

Kat Brooks has done it again. No, she hasn’t made a teacher/school girl crush film a la Loving Annabelle (dammit), but rather she has once again harnessed the power that is Kickstarter to fund her new film. One of Brooks’ most admirable characteristics is that she’s not afraid to ask for help from us, the people who watch her films. So if you’re wondering how to best use social tools to fund your project then head on over to Kat’s Twitter feed and take a look.

The Kickstarter-funded film is a feature length docu-narrative called Off The Record. In a nutshell, it’s a love story between a music journalist and a rockstar. The official blurb goes into more detail:

“Off The Record centers around two women, Aimee Allen who plays a tortured rock star with severe agoraphobia and Katherine Brooks who plays a music journalist. Although the movie is scripted, all scenes in the film will be improvised. This is the perfect medium for Brooks to blend her ten years of directing reality television and decade of narrative features. Off The Record explores mental health issues, intimacy and the struggles a woman goes through being a survivor of sexual abuse. Brooks plans to push the boundaries of filmmaking, exposing some very taboo and controversial topics.”

We wanted to dig a little deeper into the motivation behind the film, so posed some questions to the director/star:

What do you want to accomplish with Off The Record?

I want every person that is in the closet to watch this film and be given the strength to be who they really are without fear.

The film has a script but scenes will be improvised. What is your purpose for doing this?

I have a long background in both documentary and narrative. I wanted this movie to feel raw, organic and real. To do this, I felt it would be a great way to portray those things.

Where is it that you most often find inspiration?

In many ways I’m most inspired by a love that can not be, due to society reasons as well as personal fears. I’m inspired to hopefully push the envelope as much as possible so people take a risk to love.

The film is funded through Kickstarter donations, which surpassed your original goal by $5000. Has crowd sourcing changed your approach to storytelling and moviemaking?

It makes me feel like others are a part of the process of making movies and I have always loved including people in the process since I first started making movies. I think it’s a great way to have people be a part of something they would not ordinarily be able to be a part of.

What challenges have you faced as an indie filmmaker in the last 5 years?

My challenge always comes from within me, not from outside sources. I struggle like a lot of people with feeling like I’m not good enough, even if people assure me I am. My journey of self love and acceptance has been a tough one, but this project Off The Record has taught me so much about that.

Where is the industry and specifically queer filmmaking, heading?

I think it’s headed in a great direction. Soon it won’t be queer filmmaking….it will just be making a film.

What is your favourite queer film?

I love the movie Aimee and Jaguar, I think it’s authentic and amazing.

Off The Record is currently in post production and according to Brooks, will hit the festival circuit by late summer.

In January, almost a year to the day after the Egyptian revolution began, Busk received a message from Nasreen* in Cairo. She wanted to know if there was a way to pay for films with total anonymity, anxious that any card transaction could be traced back to her.

Since Busk went live, we’ve received messages expressing similar fears from all over the world: in urban and rural areas alike. We are all too aware of the harsh socio-political and cultural climate weathered by same-sex desiring people around the globe. The battle for sexual and romantic freedom under state-sanctioned or tolerated repression is, understandably, a recurring theme in the films available here. For Nasreen, and countless others, it is also an everyday reality.

In Egypt, homosexuality is not in itself illegal. However, many LGBT individuals and groups are targeted under laws based on euphemistic terminology, such as those that outlaw “debauchery” and “public immorality”.

Following the uprisings of the past 14 months, which led to the resignation of dictatorial leader Hosni Mubarak, there are signs that Egyptians are embracing a more democratic regime. The ruling military council has promised to turn over power to civilians by the end of June 2012. Yet, so far it seems unlikely that this will have any significant affect on LGBT rights in the country. The issue was omitted from a provisional Constitution endorsed by voters last year, while UN pressure to condemn homophobic discrimination has been staunchly resisted.

We asked Nasreen if she would be willing to offer us some personal insight to her life in Cairo. This is her reply:

As a lesbian living in Egypt, I have to keep everything under wraps. Nobody should know anything about my sexual orientation or else I will get into trouble. People don’t look so good at people who are homosexuals, due to religious reasons.

Although I hear negative comments and awful words about homosexuals, I can’t imagine what can happen if my mother or sister or brother found out that I’m a lesbian. Maybe they will try to cure me as they think it is an awful thing to be a homosexual and they are not tolerant when it comes to hearing [about] anyone who is a homosexual. They call them awful words. In my workplace, the same thing goes. They do respect me, and think I’m a nice person, but I’m sure they wont have the same opinion if they found out.

When my mother started noticing that I didn’t pray any more (when I started questioning Islam, the religion I was raised with), she started suspecting I might not be a good Muslim anymore. She started telling me things like: ‘if you are not a Muslim you can’t stay with us at home’. I lied, and said: I’m still Muslim. I had to, so I can still be with them. I don’t want to lose them, and I have nowhere else to go.

The same applies for my sexual orientation. She will never accept me as a lesbian and who knows what might happen? [I am always] answering stupid questions about why I didn’t get married until now, although I’m in my late thirties. I always say: ‘I don’t like marriage responsibilities’. Sometimes they mock that idea and start saying: ‘Why? You don’t want to have a baby of your own? Every woman yearns for this!’

The only way I was able to meet lesbians is through the internet. This was somehow dangerous, especially after the Queen Boat incident, when they arrested lots of Egyptian gays. But I used to take chances. After talking with [someone online] and getting to know them, I went to meet them. Some were good and others turned not quite good and I had to back off.

A girl I used to date, her family suspected that she is a lesbian and they kicked her out of the house. She was kind of ‘psycho’ and she used to make my life a living hell, threatening that she will tell my family about my sexual orientation. She didn’t tell, but I had to stay away from her for my safety.

[With my current girlfriend] we always talk about our future together. We both wish someday that we can get married, live in a more tolerant place away from homophobic people. We hope [for a brighter future, after the resignation of Hosni Mubarak] but with the rise of the Islamic Brotherhood, who have said in one of their interviews that they won’t accept homosexuality as it is against Islam, I don’t think that there will be a much brighter future for us here.

Honestly, I don’t see any improvements since Hosni Mubarak left the presidency. I think the Military council [is] just like him. A lot of people were killed since the 25th of January [2011] revolution. There is lack of security measures.

People just want a much more democratic place, [where] they can receive good education for their children, can eat a proper meal and find jobs that can secure their life and they be able to speak their minds without being arrested. This was not the case until now, unfortunately.

I would love to thank you all for allowing me to express myself and gave me the space for this. I hope that someday we can hold an LGBT pride here in Cairo.

My best regards all the way from Cairo,

Nasreen

*Name changed to protect identity. Her words have been minimally edited to retain her voice.

As a kid, I loved the Oscars. Every February, my loving mother and obliging uncle indulged me a Sunday night sleep over at his house, because he had cable (we had board games). By 12, the Oscars had me hooked on coffee. I would sit up, alone, until the early hours, basking in blue light and the irrational sensation that I was there. At school the next day, no one was interested to hear about it. I didn’t care.

Two years ago, thanks to a scheduling bump into March, the planets aligned for a glorious occasion: the Oscars fell on my birthday. I had a party, starting at midnight on a Sunday, and demanded guests arrive in formal wear. My friends hated me. I didn’t care.

This week, I watched my first Academy Award ceremony from the USA. It was as if I was inching closer to my dream of actually being there. I fixed up my hair, wore a shirt, bow tie and sunglasses. I felt like I belonged. I tripped over in every place that wasn’t extraordinarily well lit. I didn’t care.

I won the Oscar predictions sweepstake and felt smug. My only wrong guess was in the Best Documentary category, much to the astonishment of a friend who asked: “How could you bet against a film called Undefeated?” Somehow, it was even more obvious who would win the other gongs. It’s the same every year, and there’s no magic in predictability. But should I care?

I wonder though, if the Oscars would be so popular if they weren’t so popularist? The complaint that incredibly good, but incredibly obscure films are overlooked in favour of nomination-baiting fare somehow seems to miss the point of the Academy Awards. Their explicit purpose is to celebrate Hollywood. Everyone there is positively steeped in “show business”. It’s an event where the sartorial judgement of coiffed, pampered and bejewelled millionaires is of deeper debate than most nominees (I’m looking at you, Sound Editing). Poor red carpet performances warrant public character assassination via glossy magazine spread, a deathblow for ingénues.

Knowing, and embracing all that, it feels silly to grumble when “typical Hollywood” movies rule the roost. Bizarrely, however, some feel further explanation is needed as to why.

This year, much was made of The LA Times’ report on Oscar voters. With an air of inexplicable astonishment, the Times reported that, of the 5765 voting members of the Academy, just less than 94 percent is Caucasian, and 77 per cent is male. The median age is 62. “Outrageous!!” adjudged the twittersphere.

Depressing, I agree. Surprising? Not a jot. All multi-billion dollar industries are controlled by that particular, predictable demographic. When state governments have such problematic constituencies (and they often do), we should be worried. With The Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences, it seems rather impotent to feign disbelief. Seriously, who exactly did The LA Times imagine runs Hollywood?

The report concludes that we should demand a more diverse, “relevant” voting membership. If that’s the case, the real issue should be that this self-selecting group is predominantly filthy, stinking rich. Most can afford personal cinemas in each of their multiple homes. Surely that puts them further out of touch with the multiplex-frequenting public than gender or race?

Ultimately, I’m not convinced we want more “in touch” Oscar winners, anyway. Hollywood is a byword for fantasy, for hedonistic indulgence, for escape. Successful, big studio films are broadly appealing and wildly profitable because that’s what they portray. That’s how the movie magic making machine rolls. Why try to compete? Obscure, challenging, boundary-pushing films can be, and are promoted through other channels. Film can be amply celebrated without a flash of Cameron’s smile, J-Lo’s areola or Jolie’s left leg. We just have to make more noise when it happens.

So, for the other 364 days of the year, I’ll take interest in those multiple smaller awarding bodies and keep talking up amazing, under-appreciated movies. For that one starry, February night, though, I’m going to wear my sunglasses indoors, drink a shot at every “Scorsese” and quietly imagine who I’ll thank, when I’m actually there.

So, how was your Valentine’s Day? Do anything nice? The highlight of my day was being handed a chocolate heart by an ill-at-ease college freshman promoting a Libertarian Summer Camp. Where’s Cupid’s arrow when you need it? The rest of the day I spent telling friends: “I love you, with or without VD!”

I’m a curmudgeon, it’s true. It’s just that that day, the most fabricated of all the fabricated marketing days, was especially tough this year. You see there’s a new man in my life. He arrived on the scene a few months ago but I didn’t pay him much attention at first. Now, he’s everywhere. He’s really popular and people seem to hang on his every word.

He doesn’t even know I exist. Yet still, and worse: he hates me. He’s telling everyone and they seem to be taking note. His name is Rick, and a significant proportion of the US population want him to be the 45th President of the United States of America.

For anyone unfamiliar with former Philadelphia Senator Rick Santorum, he’s a front-runner in the Republican Party Presidential Candidate race. So far, Rick has come out on top in four out of nine possible primary ballots. In the eyes of Republicans in Colorado, Iowa, Minnesota and Missouri, Santorum is seen as the man to depose Barack Obama, come November’s election.

His outlook is as follows: Marriage is between one man and one woman. Sanctioning same-sex marriage is equitable to “man-on-child or man-on-dog” unions. Homosexuality, along with bigamy, polygamy, incest and adultery, “undermines the fabric of society”. Gay adoption is dangerous… The sound bites go on, but my favourite is the succinct: “I have no problem with homosexuality. I have a problem with homosexual acts”. Oh, Rick.

Some of his comments would be enough to end a political career back home in the UK. There’s been backlash in the US too, of course. Sex advice columnist Dan Savage even coined a new meaning for “santorum”, in response to Rick’s endless stream of homophobic remarks. Google the name and within the top few hits, you’ll find the following definition: “Santorum (san—TOR–um) n. 1. The frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex.”

Others have opted for pithier analyses. The New York Times, in an article discussing Santorum’s appeal, recently reiterated the infamous barb made in the Philadelphia Inquirer: “Rick Santorum has one of the finest minds of the thirteenth century”. I laughed when I read that one. But we laughed at Bush’s gaffes, too, and I’m not sure he was too hurt by it.

We need to take Rick seriously. Not because he could implement regressive—at best—policy as president. It’s unlikely he’ll get that far. We should sit up and speak out because it really doesn’t matter if he wins the nomination, or not. He’s already made his mark.

Santorum’s successes highlight to Republican strategists that homophobia, along with casual racism and sexism, wins votes. It strikes a chord with a section of the electorate. Terrifyingly, it holds appeal. Why blame the voters? Their fears are being stoked, and the information they are fed is purposely limited and biased.

As unemployment and social inequality are rife, movements such as Occupy are making waves. The fanatics atop the money pile need scapegoats. Luckily, America is imagined, packaged and sold as a strong, white, straight, virile male. All people need to hear is: “America is under threat”, and minorities become demons.

We should be worried, and more vocally challenging hate speech, rather than simply condemning or ridiculing it. Because the last thing the world needs is a military superpower endorsing homophobic, racist and gender-based inequality in the name of family values.

It’s that time of year again when filmmakers, distributors, actors and paparazzi brave the snow storms of Utah to take in new work from independent filmmakers from around the world. Why is Sundance so important? Well, it’s not only because Robert Redford is damn cool, but also because Sundance continues to champion independent film and the people who make them.

There are two parts to this Sundance game. You have the festival part where you can see the films and you have the Sundance Institute which “provides a space for independent artists to explore their stories free from commercial and political pressures.” Love that. I’m assuming you know about Pariah and Circumstance, both of these films were part of the Feature Film Program in 2011 and were provided creative and financial support.

In the words of the Michelle Satter who leads the program, “One of our core beliefs is that artists are fundamental to creating an engaged and informed society. To this day, I continue to be passionate about discovering the completely original, authentic voice whose story begs to be told.”

Anyway, here is what was playing this year:

Mosquita y Mari

(dir: Aurora Guerrero)

Mosquita y Mari explores the complexities of a budding friendship between two Chicana high schoolers in Los Angeles’ Huntington Park as they struggle to recognize the sexual undercurrent in their relationship.

Keep The Lights On

(dir. Ira Sachs)

What begins as a highly charged first encounter soon becomes something much more, and a relationship quickly develops. As the two men start building a home and life together, each continues to privately battle their own compulsions and addictions. A film about sex, friendship, intimacy and most of all, love, Keep the Lights On takes an honest look at the nature of relationships in our times.

How to Survive a Plague

(dir: David France)

How to Survive a Plague Is the story of two coalitions—ACT UP and TAG (Treatment Action Group)—whose activism and innovation turned AIDS from a death sentence into a manageable condition.

Love Free Or Die

(dir: Macky Alston & Sandra Itkoff)

Live Free Or Die is about a man whose two defining passions are in direct conflict: his love for God and for his partner Mark. Gene Robinson is the first openly gay person to become a bishop in the historic traditions of Christendom. His consecration in 2003, to which he wore a bullet-proof vest, caused an international stir, and he has lived with death threats every day since.

Young and Wild

(dir: Marialy Rivas)

Daniela is a teenager raised in the bosom of a strict and well-to-do evangelical family in Santiago, Chile. Daniela is also a 17-year-old who finds that her raging sexual drive is difficult to reconcile with the orders of her religion. With no outlet for her desire, Daniela taps into a rampant underground network of other horny teenagers through her sexually charged blog. Young & Wild is a playful and energetic coming-of-age story about a young woman who refuses to make choices that limit her pleasure.

The Thing

(dir: Rhys Ernst)

A woman, a transgendered man, and their cat travel toward a mysterious roadside attraction known as “The Thing.”

Me @ The Zoo

(dir: Chris Moukarbel & Valerie Veatch)

ME @THE ZOO is an intimate look at a controversial young video blogger regarded by millions as an Internet folk hero. Chris Crocker was bullied out of school in the 8th grade and was, by his account, raised on the Internet. Crocker’s online videos have been viewed over 270 million times to date and is part of the first wave of young people coming into adulthood under constant self-surveillance. In 2007 Crocker made the infamous YouTube video declaration “Leave Britney Alone!”

My Best Day

(dir: Erin Greenwell)
My Best Day
Karen can’t believe that she has to work her receptionist gig on a gorgeous Fourth of July. Then a call comes from her long-lost father and sets in motion a crazy chain of events that will change one small town forever. Meanwhile, Megan must decide between the stability of her longtime girlfriend and the thrill of a new love. Young Ray fends off bullies and organized sports to woo the girl he likes. In a little burg like this, you’d better believe everything is connected, which means that pretty soon everyone is mixed up in each other’s business.

I have come to realize that Busk is exactly like my brother’s daughter, who is also one. Okay, one and a bit. And by a bit I mean many months which means alot when you are this age.
(more…)

Hey there. I’m Siobhán, your new resident blogger. It’s lovely to meet you. I really like what you’re wearing, by the way. Is it new? Very stylish. Anyway, I’ve been tasked with keeping you entertained and updated with a mixture of film news and reviews; unabashedly subjective social commentary; a smattering of interviews, most likely with people I quite fancy; the occasional report back from some farcical situation I found myself in, and general points of interest for the BuskFilms community. I’m very excited.

If you’re signed up to our newsletter (and if not, why not?!), you may well be asking yourself if I can possibly live up to the billing I received there: “Sio may just be the eighth wonder of the world”. Well speculate no longer! I can’t. Impossible. I’m not even going to try. Anyway, according to a Good Morning America viewer poll, the Grand Canyon has already snagged that accolade. If I do manage to become the biggest visitor attraction in the US, get a Perspex viewing platform installed on my ribcage and allow child-laden donkeys to roam over me, I’ll put in a claim. Until then, I’ll accept ‘Ninth Wonder’, and nothing more.

Self-aggrandising title aside, a little more about myself: 1) I’m a writer and occasional filmmaker, currently having my days consumed by PhD study. 2) I’m new to the USA, and just finding my feet here. My Britishness is being adored and derided in equal measure, but I’m settling in…alright.

On the one hand, I’m clearly baffling my neighbours. I reply to casual, “how you doin’?” greetings with enthusiastic comments like: “Oh Good Evening! Bit nippy out tonight, isn’t it?” It’s like Joey Tribianni meeting an ineptly villainous Victorian gent. At first, I received blank stares. Now I get leftfield statement-questions like: “Oh, you’re British! That metric system is crazy!” and “Are you from London?! Bet you’re excited about the Olympics!” I have nothing to say in return, but it feels like progress.

On the other hand, I’m getting a lot of encouraging affection. Or, to put it another way: people think I’m a little slow on the uptake. This occasionally works in my favour. Last week, I gaily skipped to the front of a gay bar pool table queue by asking: “so, pardon me, yes, um, in the UK you get in line to play by putting a coin on the edge of the table… is that how it works here? I mean, I’d like to, ah, play, if possible?”. Smile. Blush. Pause. Am handed the cue. Am told I am cute. Rejoice! I consider that I might just appear charming. Then irritate everyone by being completely abject at playing pool. Win some, loose some, I suppose.

Well, that’s me. Feedback welcome. Feel free to offer assimilation tips below, or suggest themes that demand someone like me—in fact, specifically me—to investigate further and write about. I’ll do my best.

You know what the best place in America is? Portland. It’s a simple equation really. Cute lesbians + bicycles + micro breweries = yes please.

It’s a shame the PowerUp Premiere (a fundraiser that celebrates talented queers in media) is held in LA, because otherwise we could have used our gas money to buy beer while hanging out with cute lesbians who have bikes as accessories instead of tiny dogs.

Although our time in Portland was short, we did manage to catch up with Kathy Belge, a journalist otherwise known as Dipstick from Curve Magazine’s lesbian advice column: Lipstick & Dipstick. While most of my lesbian relationship questions will remain off the record due to the realization that I am an inadequate romantic partner, after reading Lipstick & Dipstick’s Essential Guide to Lesbian Relationships, I learned that there is in fact such a thing as a successful lesbian relationship. Who knew? Kathy Belge, that’s who.

How did the concept for Lipstick and Dipstick develop? What has this collaboration taught you about yourself and lesbians in general?

Gina Daggett and I met at a pizza party for our local gay newspaper, Just Out. We instantly clicked and started meeting for coffee. It was Gina’s idea to collaborate on a column from the butch and femme perspectives. We spent a lot of time developing the idea, talking with other writers and editors we knew. We held focus groups and wrote lots of sample columns before we decided on the advice column format.

Personally, I love to collaborate. I’m a twin, so I think it’s in my nature. Plus, I think it’s what makes our column fun and unique.

What has been your most memorable (hilarious/disturbing) question?

We get asked this question a lot. We had one very funny question where someone asked about owning a cat. She wanted to know, since lesbians love cats, if getting more than one cat would make her more likely to attract women and what kind of cat she should get. It was obviously meant to be light and funny and we did answer the question in Curve magazine.

When we first stated the column, we wanted it to be light-hearted and fun. And I think it still is. But what we didn’t really expect was the amount of sincerity and pain a lot of women were in and who were looking for some real solid advice. There have been questions that have sobered us, for sure. Like women who live in places like India or Indonesia, looking for ways to be out, or to deal with the homophobia in their countries. Or women who are looking for advice and describing what is obviously an abusive relationship. It’s hard because we don’t always have answers for them. Sometimes they need much more than a one-off answer in a magazine column, ya know?

As the columnist for lesbianlife.about.com, you’re in the business of offering advice. What are some of the challenges that come with this responsibility?

Well, it’s like I was saying above, people write in who are in a lot of pain and they don’t know where else to turn. Or people have sex questions and they don’t know who to ask. Or young people are struggling with coming out. Or even older women who are finding for the first time they are attracted to women and not sure what to do. I take the work that I do very seriously and my background in social work comes in handy about every single day!

Is Portland really the hotbed for lesbianism that I think it is?

Yes! Portland is one of the best places to be a lesbian if you don’t mind rain.

What, in your opinion, is the most challenging thing about a lesbian relationship?

Hmm… I think there definitely are challenges associated with being in a relationship that doesn’t get legal and social recognition. I can’t understate the impact that not being able to get legally married has on one’s psyche.  And now we’re heading into campaign season and the Republican candidates all have something negative to say about gay people. It takes it toll on relationships. I don’t know if that’s the most challenging thing, but it is a challenge.

How does being a writer influence your role in the LGBT community? Do you consider yourself an activist?

Yes, I am an activist. When I first started writing for About.com, I thought I had to take a neutral position on issues. But that’s not reasonable. I’m not neutral on the issues that affect me and my community. I’ve since learned that not only is it okay to take a position, people actually look to me to do so. Of course, it is still important that I back myself up with good research and solid facts.

Most importantly, what is your favorite queer film?

My favorite queer film of all time – and probably favorite film of all time period – is Brokeback Mountain. Love that movie and cry every time.

ps – yes that dog is as cute as he looks