I saw hope, hope that even the most rigid and demonic notions — the vigilante, or the mad(man), or the villain — could be resuscitated. And in this project of resuscitation lies the power of low art. Just as the stale and hyper-rationality of Batman could be transformed into a subversive paean to the power of transness, so too can pleasure, ugliness, and minstrelsy be transformed into vehicles of liberation.
Enya is a Vine star: She has made her name posting Vines, seven second videos filled with slapstick comedy, cursing, and child-like ridiculousness, on social media for her thousands of followers, yet it also challenges notions of how laughter and marginalized identity can coexist.
Out of this banality of pop, SOPHIE constructs a secret haven, a hidden home for all those whose gender has become their prison. For in pleasure, the gendered body becomes concerned not with the judging gaze of its audience, but with itself. Pleasure allows for, in Lorde’s words, the sensation of “It feels right to me.”
Why then, would Auntie Walker so gleefully and ferociously wrest away our dignity, pinning us up against the museum walls like butterflies in a white man’s study?
What if Beyonce didn’t want a Grammy? What if we don’t need a seat at the table?
This semester the two of us decided to quit the Undergraduate Council, the primary platform of our public service.
While we seek to push for an act or movement that is explicitly designed to benefit students of color by alleviating white supremacy, we are forced to reassure white Harvard that our liberation attempts are to their benefit.
Radicalism and reformism have always been linked, have always relied on one another—both are necessary to advance the project of justice.
But what it, and this world, fails to understand is that for people of color, mental (un)health is synonymous with racial trauma.
Our free speech is as valuable as Murray’s. Attempts to obfuscate this fact only serve to perpetuate our oppression.
I am a human being, and human beings get mad. To disregard that is to dehumanize me.
Drag is not neutral. Drag without the celebration and protection of Brown and Black Queer folks is anti-Queer, anti-Brown, and anti-Black.
At this political moment when the very humanity of people of color in this country is being questioned and white supremacy is at the forefront of American political discourse, students ought to stand with their vulnerable peers of color, and other marginalized persons, on this campus.
The point is that how we handle Charlottesville is incredibly important. What we say next matters, because it can lead to either change or complacency, acceptance, or denial.