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Queering Asian Heritage Month

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Wed, 09 May 2012 14:47:00 +0000

Yesterday at a monthly staff meeting a group of co-workers made a presentation for South Asian Heritage Month. Every time I hear the phrase “South Asian Heritage Month” I feel my normally-low blood pressure rise. These co-workers, salwar khameez and sari adorned, talked about languages, religions, festivals and foods. For Pakistan and Bangladesh we even had to stand for the national anthems. I did all the leaning on a cupboard rather than standing straight with respect, smirking, eye rolling, sarcastic making-fun-of that I could without making a sound. At the end of the presentation I shot up my hand to offer my (alternate) opinion – for the record – noting that according to Citizenship and Immigration Canada, May is in fact ASIAN Heritage Month, and although Ontario recognises it as South Asian Heritage Month this is a slap in the face of our organisational inclusivity philosophies. I know that as an Indian governments have compartmentalised me as South Asian, but India is in fact in Asia and that is a an identity which is more real and meaningful to me. More importantly, I talked about how these ‘heritage months’ are offensive and demeaning to my history which I carry 12 months of the year, not just in May. A Black co-worker showed support by saying something about not appreciating the song and dance which is offered as racist tokenism and how she feels similarly about Black History Month. If we are to share and celebrate our histories, this should be done year-round. (I work for a non-profit, community based health centre .)

I spent the rest of the day thinking a lot about what happened, how I responded and if anything would actually come from the critique.

As I lay in my bed last night reading, I began to think about what it means to be a queer Asian. I was reading Minal Hajratwala,’s Leaving India, the chapter which tells her individual story. As an Indian who has lived on 3 different continents and whose family is spread far across the globe, this book has felt like a gift. And then I began to think about all the other queer Asians who need to be recognised and thanked for their bravery, and for sharing their lives. Their stories, their images and their bodies make my life safer, more visible, more viable. Some of them only appear on my Twitter feed, some exist on the shelves and walls in my home, a few are alive in my heart everyday.

So here’s a short list of some of the queer Asians who make a difference in my life throughout the year, not just in May.

Minal Hajratwala
Jiz Lee
Sonali Gulati
Prerna Lal
The Disgrasian team
Mariko Tamaki
Stacey Ann Chin
@UAELGBTR
Meera Sethi
Vivek Shraya
Casey Mecija
The fictional Kalinda Sharma played by Archie Panjabi on The Good Wife. Never before have I seen an actual queer, brown, female character on television. But it wasn’t until the last episode (season 3 finale) that she finally outed herself as ‘flexible’ which is good enough for me. And it’s not just that she’s a queer, brown character. She’s got a leading role, she’s fierce, she is the reason cases are won and her sexy scenes (although few and far between) are pretty steamy.

KK, FH & BS
With love, r

Gay Rights Gone Global

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 13:11:00 +0000

U.N. Secretary General Ban Ki Moon recently gave a "historic" speech about LGBT rights. Someone made a "remix" video of it (which I personally don't like):

As a sociologist, I could say a lot of critical things about this. But as a community organizer, I wish to spread the word about this speech.

The walkout by "Muslim and African countries" was reported by the Guardian.

In a clear reference to Islamic and African countries, [Navi Pillay, the human rights high comissioner] said some states would argue that homosexuality or bisexuality "conflict with local cultural or traditional values, or with religious teachings, or run counter to public opinion".
She said that they were free to hold their opinions, but: "That is as far as it goes. The balance between tradition and culture, on the one hand, and universal human rights on the other, must be struck in favour of rights."

I think it's important to examine our tendency for binary logic: Tradition vs. Progress, Culture vs. Rationality, or Local vs. Global. There are multiple realities, interacting in complex, often contradictory, ways. Power relations work in much more nuanced ways, yet they are often purported to be about a simple division between the powerful and the powerless (e.g. bourgeois vs proletariat, colonizer vs. the colonized).

So I'd like to ask:

What are implied, assumed, or evoked when people use "culture" or "religion"? Who benefits from these words?

What ideas does it normalize to say that "Muslim and African countries" are homophobic? That such countries deserve poverty and bombs? That other countries aren't homophobic? That some cultures are naturally superior to others?

Who is speaking? For whom? Who is silenced?

Who should we listen to? What could we do?

"Culture" is not a fixed entity. To construct a certain culture as spatially and temporally fixed or rigid constitutes a crucial step towards cultural dominance and colonization. It has rationalized the conquests on every continent and many islands. We as Queer and Trans people of color cannot buy into that White lie. Cultures and traditions are always changing, and they are produced retroactively. We are, indeed, part of that "culture."

Masalarific!

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 13:58:00 +0000

Watch the video "Shit Gay Desi Boys Say" by @kareempuff

EVENT: Throwback March 4th, Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 20:52:00 +0000

Toronto-based Pakistani video artist Sharlene Bamboat and Lebanese born, Montreal based video and performance artist Ali El-Darsa, both queer, bring you:

THROWBACK
a performative installation by Sharlene Bamboat & Ali El-Darsa

“archive as an institution is a site of memory; as a tool is a refinement of desire”

(Arjun Appadurai).

Redefining memories of migration and queer desire, Throwback is an exercise in the creation of an archive of queer immigration and imagination. Featuring the bodies of two performers, myself and Ali - both queer, both migrants to Canada - this piece explores the disjuncture between mainstream accounts of queer belonging and the mundane experiences of queers who circulate at the margins of those dominant queer narratives.

“there is no archive without a place of consignation, without a technique of repetition, and without a certain exteriority”
(Jacques Derrida).

Enacting a repetitive and tedious performance of queer histories in Canada in juxtaposition to everyday acts of diasporic queer subjectivity, we implicate ourselves in the retelling of queer history. As we produce new material for our archive, we disrupt the temporality of history and memory by combining archival materials and pre-recorded content with live performance.
- Sharlene Bamboat

Throwback is in response to Cinenova (feminist) film and video collection, All Hands on the Archive, collaboration between the Art Gallery of York University, the Feminist Art Gallery and The Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery.

Throwback
Sunday March 4th, 2012 8:00-9:00 PM
The Gladstone Ballroom, 1214 Queen St. West, Toronto
www.sharlenebamboat.com
www.alieldarsa.com

Vivek Shraya reads Lipstick from God Loves Hair (and an event, Tonight in Toronto)

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 15:06:00 +0000

A little over a year ago I blogged about Vivek Shraya's self published book God Loves Hair, a collection of short stories about growing up queer and brown in Edmonton, Alberta. Vivek is releasing the second edition of God Loves Hair tonight alongside Toronto's premiere screening of Sonali Gulati's I Am. Watch the clip of Vivek reading Lipstick and see below for tonight's event details.

Please join Positive Space Ryerson and RyePRIDE for Toronto's premiere screening of Sonali Gulati's 'I Am', and the release of the second edition of Vivek Shraya's book 'God Loves Hair', followed by Q&A.

DATE: February 13, 2012

TIME: 6:30pm

VENUE: Thomas Lounge - Ryerson University

I AM

“I Am chronicles the journey of an Indian lesbian filmmaker who returns to Delhi, eleven years later, to re-open what was once home, and finally confronts the loss of her mother whom she never came out to. As she meets and speaks to parents of other gay and lesbian Indians, she pieces together the fabric of what family truly means, in a landscape where being gay was until recently a criminal and punishable offense.”

http://www.sonalifilm.com/I-AM.html

GOD LOVES HAIR

GOD LOVES HAIR is Vivek Shraya‘s first book, a collection of 21 short stories following a tender, intellectual, and curious child as he navigates complex realms of sexuality, gender, racial politics, religion, and belonging. Told with the poignant insight and honesty that only the voice of a young mind can convey, the stories are accompanied by the award-winning illustrations of Toronto artist Juliana Neufeld. God Loves Hair was selected as a finalist in the 2011 Lambda Literary Awards.

http://vivekshraya.com/godloveshair/
The emcee for the evening will be Farzana Doctor. Farzana Doctor is a Toronto-based novelist. Her first novel, Stealing Nasreen, received critical acclaim upon its release in 2007. Her second book, Six Metres of Pavement, was named a Top Ten Book of 2011 by NOW Magazine and won a Rainbow Award.

NO COVER.
SPONSORED BY:

Positive Space Ryerson University (http://www.ryerson.ca/equity/positivespace/)

RyePRIDE (http://www.ryepride.ca/)

INSIDE OUT (http://www.insideout.ca)

The South Asian Visual Arts Centre- SAVAC (http://www.savac.net/)
http://www.facebook.com/events/create/?eid=357101390967252

Time in Queer Bodies of Color: a personal reflection

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 14:08:00 +0000

I turned 25 years old 3 weeks ago, and it seems to me that my relationship with ontology of time, or temporality, has transformed. Actually, it has always been changing--time never "flowed," "steadily." But I've begun to notice the fluidity of my time.

When I was 9 years old, my reality consisted entirely of the milieu of elementary school; my desires, pains, boredom, frustration, knowledge, sustenance, communication, and growth were dictated by the normative time and space that were assigned to me as a 9-year-old boy in a small town in Japan. I lived in a small world. It's not that I was ignorant of the "outside world," or the "adult's world" because those were still part of my reality. I hated school, yet I believed I had to go, even though my parents told me that I didn't. Days went by slowly, and I looked forward to my favorite TV shows on Fridays. I thought 12-year-olds were infinitely more mature than I was.

I turned 12 years old, and I started attending middle school (which is technically translated as junior high school). I loved every day, despite tremendous emotional pain that I was going through. I no longer looked forward to any particular day of the week. The "adult's world" became a slightly bigger part of my reality. I thought about my future, how I was supposed to live with dignity as a Queer person, how I would be able to have a career in music. I was filled with hope and anxiety. I desperately hoped to maintain my friendships for the rest of my life. Time began to accelerate, and three years of middle school felt as quick as the final year of elementary school.

When I was 16 years old, I was more uncomfortable with the society than ever. I had more money and freedom, but I was feeling constrained, especially at high school. My sexual exploration had already begun by then. I started working among people of various generations; I was teaching swimming to kids, from toddlers to youth, and my colleagues were from my age to my parents' age. I learned so much from everyone, regardless of their age. I respected all my students and never treated them as kids. My work was a refuge from the superficiality of high school. I had some people to talk to, but I didn't really have any friends at school; I couldn't seem to learn anything from my classmates. It was around this time when I decided to do my undergrad in the U.S. because I had no illusion about Japanese educational ideology and no hope for universities in Japan. I wanted to learn Queer studies and gain experience in activism. I really wanted to focus on learning. I listened to a lot of English music and read Harry Potter in English. My reality encompassed this imagined place in imagined future: a college in the U.S.

I turned 20 years old 3 months after I arrived in San Francisco. Everything was new and exciting. I wrote about my sexuality on my blog and explained why I came to the U.S. I had been open to a few friends at work, but this was when I stopped strategizing who to tell or not tell. I was tired of doing so. Yet every time I went back to Japan, I felt silenced again. It felt like I had two entirely separate realities, an exciting college life in San Francisco and an awkward time in my hometown. I was growing so much from living abroad, but there seemed to be only minor changes in the landscape of the small town. 16 hours of time difference, yet the speed of time wasn't the same. 11 hours of flight over the Pacific Ocean somehow demarcated these two worlds, and I was always blissed out to land in SFO.

My 25th birthday happened in the middle of the Ph.D. application process. It was a daunting process that required a tremendous amount of emotional and spiritual work. I was working on my personal statement one evening, with some wine. Because my research interests are very close to my personal background, I had to reflect a lot on my life. I thought of my ancestors who made me who I am today despite their sufferings. I started crying. I begged them to stay with me by my side so I could get through, and eventually I came to realize that they have always been there. It was me who had chosen not to acknowledge their presence, and various external influences had also interrupted our relationships. Thus, I reached out to my ancestors, and I felt powerful again.

*****

As a 25-year-old, I have a new relationship with time. I have gained some life experiences; I can draw on them to inform my thinking. These past experiences also haunt me; mistakes I made, people I hurt, emotions I suppressed. They belong not only to the past, but in fact I need them in the present tense to make better decisions. I also have different views of what's about to come; I face the future with slightly thinner fogs. It's all in my imagination, yet I aspire to actualize it, while it continues to fear me like no other. I have a better sense of who I have been and who I wish to become--two aspects of my life that guides me to know who I "am." Thus, the present is no longer simply what I consider to be "now" and "here," but it's become entirely contingent upon so-called "past" and "future." It's not as static, rigid, or stable as it seemed before. It's no longer about simply "being," but it's all about constantly "knowing" and "becoming." The borders between "the present" and everything else, as well as "presence" and "absence" have become incredibly ambiguous.

The partial stories I wrote above seem to be in chronological order, from the age of 9 to 25. Yet they take particular shape as I re-construct them as my past, and I wouldn't have know how I would write them when I was living those moments. I wrote them with particular set of words, precisely because I am not in those moments. As much as my "past" influences my "present," my "present" creates my "past." What does it mean, then, to write down my imagined future? I've been thinking about new year's resolution. I think I'll try to eat more beans next year. But as soon as I write it down, or even as I think of it, it becomes my "present" and my "future," and immediately my "past," all at once.

Even from our daily experiences, we know that the flow of time is not homogeneous. Time at work passes very slowly. Hours in front of TV passes quickly. Days before the first date passes slowly. A year at the age of 22 passes more quickly than a year at the age of 13. Even the lengths of daytime and nighttime changes throughout the year. Why do we, then, stick to the idea that time flow is always steady and consistent? Why do we give so much power to our watches and clocks?

Western/Christian epistemology of time is driven by teleology, the study of the ultimate meaning and purpose of existence (which God had assigned). It's supposed to be that there is only one way, one path that all the existing thing will follow, in one direction, from the past to the future. Hence, there is of course only one reality, one truth, the truth, and only one way of knowing. In science, this is a paradigm called positivism. Knowledge exists as an entity out there in the world, and humans are supposedly able to own it by disciplining themselves through methodology, the study of the ways of knowing. The positivist historiography is marked by the concept of "progress," and anything and everything that are deemed as obstacles to this "progress"--nature, traditional knowledge, femininity, emotions, disabilities, queer sexualities, profanity, "uncivilized" ways of living--are to be enlightened by God's teachings, or destroyed altogether. Human life course is obviously comprised of a certain way of living: birth, growth, marriage, procreation, child-rearing, and death. Time is not only measurable but also a measure in itself. Time is a resource that one possesses as individual properties. This means that it's possible for me to waste your time.

Such a worldview does not have a room for my relationship with time. Such an epistemology of time to me seems androcentric, Eurocentric, and heteronormative. It doesn't have room for my coexisting relationships with my ancestors and descendants. Its unilateral direction doesn't account for circular and other fluid ways of relating to time, including menstrual cycles and reincarnation. There's no clear-cut expected life course for Queers. People with disabilities or chronic medical conditions may experience time differently from able-bodied people. What about people "doing time?" Such culturally specific, yet hegemonic temporality, ultimately, doesn't allow for my Queer sexuality and my cultures and traditions to coexist. My sexuality is seen as progressive, while my culture is seen as backwards.

When I was 21 years old, my mother told me that one of my uncles on my father's side is gay. I had no idea. I didn't remember ever meeting him because my father had severed their relationship a long time ago. The fact that I have a gay uncle (just like everyone else does!) made me think that perhaps some of my ancestors were also "Queer," although such conceptualization is both quite Eurocentric and presentist. It was a liberating thought; I no longer have to see myself at the end of a very long thread of heteronormativity, threatening what has been built over thousands of generations. As much as my ancestors and descendants are integral part of my existence, I am an integral part of their existence. I am not alone.

This new relationship that I have with time is enabling me to have an entirely different cosmology--one that allows for me as a Queer Zainichi Korean person in this historical moment to exist at all. I needed this knowledge to break away from the dominant system of knowledge about time, which dictates our epistemology quite pre-discursively. In other words, in order to "know" what we know, to view ourselves from alternative perspectives--to decolonize ourselves--we need a different relationship with time that is not so Eurocentric, androcentric, and heteronormative. Time does not exist out there in the world as an entity that we can somehow possess. Rather, time is relational, fluid, and complex, always experienced differently. Time, therefore, is embodied. (Well, duh!)

Influential Works:

-Clayton Dumont (2008) The Promise of Poststructuralist Sociology: Marginalized Peoples and the Problem of Knowledge, State University of New York Press.

-Avery Gordon (2008) Ghostly Matters: Haunting and the Sociological Imagination, University of Minnesota Press.

-Jasbir Puar (2007) Terrorist Assemblages: Homonationalism in Queer Times, Duke University Press.

-Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999) Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples, Zed Books.

-Shawn Wilson (2008) Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods, Fernwood Publishing.

Works that I think would have enriched this essay:

-Carolyn Dinshaw, et al. (2007) "Theorizing Queer Temporalities: A Roundtable Discussion" GLQ, 13(2-3): 177-195.

-Elizabeth Freeman (2010) Time Binds: Queer Temporalities, Queer Histories, Duke University Press.

-Judith Halberstam (2005) In a Queer Time and Space: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives, New York University Press.

-José Estaban Muñoz (2009) Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity, New York University Press.

Is Jackie Shroff Gay?

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 21:09:00 +0000

The interweb is abuzz with rumours that Bollywood actor Jackie Shroff is gay!

The Not So Good Indian Wife

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 23:42:00 +0000

Kalinda Sharma.

Who else is mesmerized by Kalinda Sharma (Archie Panjabi)? For two and a bit seasons she's been wearing short tight skirts, fitted leather jackets, knee-high boots. Her hair always tied back in a bun. Slightly darkened lips. Her eyes pierce like daggers and she always gets what's she wants. Except the girl.

Kalinda is guarded. Like so many queers I know. Hiding from herself or those close to her.

If you don't know who I'm talking about you should be watching The Good Wife. This legal drama, and my current favourite TV show, depicts sex scenes with utmost subtlety , the height of sexy. Kalinda hardly ever gets action but when she does, it's on. And for a few long breaths we see her soften at someone's lips but never in their arms.

At first I thought it was the writer's way of being liberal by writing in a queer character but not going all the way to develop her story and relationships. But we are into season three and I know the show better. It's subtle. All sexual relationships in this show are subtle, suggestive, slow to develop.

Kalinda has a dark past which it seems is constantly hidden from us. Her name was changed. She lived in Canada. There's shadiness. She's an investigator for the firm who always cracks the case and for this reason she needs to be nondescript, unknown.

But her character is also doing that dance which is so familiar to me, I see it in so may dykes of color. Too scared to get close to anyone. Too guarded to let anyone in. Too tortured to feel anything or act on desire beyond a sultry glance, a shared drink or a steamy kiss in a club.

She is that archetypal sexy, mysterious, draw you in and spit you out kind of dyke we might have all experienced as a coming of age.

Artist Q and A: Casey Mecija of Ohbijou

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 22:35:00 +0000

Toronto's Ohbijou recently released a really hot album. Metal Meets is a beautifully layered combination of sounds which will soothe and make you move. I asked lead singer and personal friend, Casey Mecija, to answer some questions for Wiqaable.com.

RRK: Casey, as you know I am so so excited about Ohbijou's latest album Metal Meets. Thank you for letting me share this with the Wiqaable family. I know you've been traveling a lot in the past year or so and have spent time in rural parts of Canada. This album makes me think about Canada's landscape, which I have only recently begun to appreciate and admire. Do you write better music in the wilderness? Can you tell us about Ohbijou's music creating process?

CM:The city is full of distractions. Whether it be friends, family, relationships, technology; I think escaping to somewhere that feels isolated promotes focus. Ohbijou went to a little cottage in a place called Dyer's Bay. Everyday we focused on writing music together. I think because of this our writing for the album conveys a greater cohesion from our previous records. Running off to the woods, despite it being the proverbial band get away was the in the end the most idyllic and enjoyable way to write and arrange this record.

RRK: This album is bass and rhythm heavy, what has changed since your last album?

CM: With this album we were definitely conscious of trying to take on unique approaches to each song. The rhythm section worked at keeping the album moving. We wanted to develop our sound but still convey space and restraint so I think the bursts of drums and bass are exciting and creative.

RRK: A few of the band members are queer, however Ohbijou's music isn't overtly queer and the fan-base is a pretty diverse group. How does this aspect of your identity influence the stories you tell?

CM: The love stories on this record are queer love stories. I think an audience can relate to these emotions whether or not they are privy to this aspect of my life.
As a band we receive so much support from the queer community and we are truly humbled that our music can communicate to diverse groups of people. What more could you want?

RRK: Your parents immigrated to Canada from the Philippines. How does their journey and the culture or your relationship with the Philippines influence you as an artist?

CM: Being Filipino impacts my endeavors as an artist everyday. For this record especially, I was trying to communicate aspects of my culture, lineage, bloodline etc...in our songs. Music is an incredible conduit to expressing yourself. I wanted to relay gratitude to my parents for their sacrifices in creating opportunities for my sisters and I. I wanted to pay homage to their hard work and success at creating a life and love in Canada despite racism.

RRK: What was Casey the teenager like?

CM: Oh god. I was definitely confused as a teenager. At one point I was attempting to dread my hair. It's actually too embarrassing to think about.
Humour aside, I always had an interest in community activism and am glad that I used my years in highschool to organize activities and events that promoted an anti-racist agenda.

RRK: You're back in school, doing a masters in education. How does this relate to your music?

CM: Being in school, reading course material and participating in class discussions have inspired a more contemplative inquiry into our world and how it operates. I feel like I ask more questions now. With music I find myself doing the same. I have begun to really parse through each lyric, each melody choice to make sure the end result is thoughtful and is the best that it can be.

RRK: As someone who witnesses the connection you have with your partner I am constantly looking for her in your music. How much of the new material is inspired by your current partnership?

CM: My relationship with my partner is everywhere on this record. Metal Meets is a love story; our love story.

Here's the video for Niagara, the first release and one of my favourites from Metal Meets.

On Being a Queer Sikh

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 15:06:00 +0000

Religion didn't dominate my upbringing. My parents are from different backgrounds; my father Parsi and my mother Sikh. At the age of ten I was reluctantly baptised a Parsi. I had no understanding of what the religion stands for and no real connection to the ritualistic practices or community. My mother was not religious so Sikhism didn't touch me till later when I was spending more time with my Naniji and Nanaji, my maternal grandparents. Mornings in their house began with the recitation of a passage from the Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh text. I didn't understand what was being said but I do remember feeling still and calm and engaged.

I carried this with me as a teenager and more willingly attended kirtan with my grandparents. A community of people singing hymns, reciting prayers, learning and sharing. Langar, the community meal following kirtan always excited me because who isn't excited by homemade Indian deliciousness? I enthusiastically performed seva, or service. In this context it meant distributing plates or roti or dhal to the seated congregants. This might be where my commitment to community was born.

My grandmother was a remarkable woman who perhaps instilled in me a sense of social justice among other things. She shared many stories of being a young woman fighting for India's freedom from Britain, being displaced during partition and refusing to leave the newly independent India when her father was offered work in Canada. The family stayed. I remember distinctly having a conversation with her about how America was trying to patent basmati. We felt robbed.

I cherish these memories but specifically all the stillness we shared in prayer at the Gurudwara. We rarely talked about religion but some things really don't need to be said.

I don't feel like a religious person but I do feel spiritual and I am moved when I participate in Sikh ceremony. As an adult, and with the passing of my grandmother I have made more of an effort to learn about the history of Sikhism, what it stands for and my connection to the religion is reaffirmed; equality, justice, truth.

From what I know Sikh teachings do not say anything about queerness. It is the culture with at times upholds heteronormativity. In this article, Sonny Singh describes briefly the history and the values, and why Sikhism teaches Sikhs to stand up for queer and trans rights.

I never came out to my grandmother verbally, but I think she knew and she understood. She expressed her acceptance during a conversation about Deepa Mehta's Fire by describing the relationship between the two sisters-in-law as, "something that has always happened in our history."

Religion is a solitary and private experience for me so I don't venture to change the practice of Sikhism or influence what happens within Sikh organisations. But I continue to gain strength from my Sikh identity when I work in communities, when I advocate for social justice and as I walk the world as a racialised queer woman.

It Gets Better, in Tamil

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 13:41:00 +0000

Orinam.net brings us an It Gets Better Video in Tamil, by Sarav Chidambaram.

code*

Let me show you something good.

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 00:53:00 +0000

I just absolutely love their work, and y'all have to watch the videos!!

"[UN]SPOKEN is a new digital shorts campaign by the Asian & Pacific Islander Wellness Center uncovering the lives of real Asian & Pacific Islander guys with real sex stories, tangled in raw, unspoken situations. These narratives seek to provide tools for young folks to have safer sex by unsealing voyeuristic snippets of the lives of young men who have overcome real life sexual challenges." --from their Facebook page

How often do we see ourselves reflected in various media campaigns against HIV/AIDS as Queer API youth? Not too often, right? Plus, those campaigns have mostly been only against HIV/AIDS, and we have had few opportunities to talk about what we're actually for. I think these videos are very important because they can create a space where we can have that discussion. And here are some of the questions I'm interested in exploring with you.

What knowledge, skill, or experience do we really need to learn or have in order to talk about many different kinds of flexible and fluid relationships we have in reality?

What does it take to create a community where we can have a collective sense of support, respect, and love for each other?

How can we move beyond the narrative of "protection," "safety," "barrier," and "fight against," which demonizes the very people living with HIV and AIDS, and actually start talking about our real emotions and feelings around our sexual negotiations?

How do we imagine our relationships to be, not as the objects of public health interventions (as "at-risk," "MSM," and other statistical-epidemiological categories), but really as the subjects of our lives, as the agents of our communities?

These are not the easiest questions to answer. In fact, there is no right or wrong answer. Yet I believe the dialogue needs to happen. We have already begun, to some extent; let's keep asking more and more important, real questions. Together.

This Queer Pin@y is celebrating Indigenous People's Day tomorrow.

noreply@blogger.com (Kalaya'an) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 03:50:00 +0000

I am Indigenous. My ancestors were colonized, raped and had countless atrocities committed against them by conquistadors that soon followed Columbus' galleons of disease and death. I have spent most of my life trying to reclaim what little remained of my people's indigenous heritage after 400 years of occupation, subjugation and genocide, by men who looked very much like Christopher Columbus, or rather Cristobal Colon (yes, that is where the world "colonization" comes from.) I along with so many Indigenous Activists and allies have taken it upon ourselves to educate our communities, families, colleagues and friends about the root cause of our collective suffering and begin to address these issues from a decolonized framework.

But this is beside the point. Allow me to address the question:

Why do "some people" call it Indigenous People's Day rather than Columbus Day?

Simply put: Celebrating Columbus Day = Celebrating Genocide. Yah, I said it.

To me, Columbus and other conquistadors represent centuries of anguish, broken promises and the destruction of eons of tradition. So when people, especially people whom I consider respected colleagues celebrate him and his invasion, it hurts. It hurts on a very visceral level. My blood screams and the marrow in my bones burn. I do not know if this is the rage of my ancestors contained in genetic memory but I do know that to allow this affront to continue is plainly, unjust and spits in the face of those who came before us. As social justice activists, we cannot abide by this rosy colored version of history. In order for us to truly be holistic in our activism we must acknowledge the past as it pertains to the inequitable present and future, of all oppressed peoples. It is blatantly disrespectful to invalidate the genuine need (and movement behind it) to acknowledge one day, out of 365 to be identified as a day of recovery, reclamation and decolonization.

Although, I am generations and centuries removed from Ferdinand Magellan's invasion, I still deal with my own internalized racism and self hatred that was instilled within the "Indios" of the Philippines by their Spanish overlords. My people are still dealing with the ramifications of systematic genocide, resource extraction, cultural colonization and the death of our gods at the hands of the European "explorers".

I would like to call on all of you to use Oct 10th as a day to self educate, open up that old copy of Howard Zinn's "The People's History Of the United States", find a local event; a teach-in, a protest, or a celebration of resistance and join, in solidarity with people who are still struggling for their side of history to be told. Don't just let this be another "day off" make it a "day on."

I will never celebrate Columbus. I will never honor the accomplishment of those who walked with death close behind them. I will never let the fury of my ancestors become silenced. I will not stand idly by watching the terror and pain of the Indigenous People's of this continent get white washed and Disneyfied. I will never allow the dignity and legacy of Indigenous People's who came before, to be sullied by the lies of the conquistadors.

I will never forgive and I will never forget.

October 10th is Indigenous People's Day.

Queer as a Verb

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 11:33:00 +0000

It's been a week since I moved to London for grad school. It's a beautiful city, and the largest city I've ever lived in. I live in the school's student housing in south London, in a neighborhood with amazing diversity of brown people. Although I don't see many east Asians around, I feel instantly at home at a local supermarket because it's kind of like Lucky by Lake Merritt in Oakland. One of the more noticeable differences is that the cashiers are sitting in comfortable office chairs. Why didn't we think of that in the U.S. or Japan?

Inside the housing is also a diverse group of people from all over the world, or at least I assume so, given the student demographics of London School of Economics (I haven't had the chance to meet all of them yet). But meeting new people can be anywhere from creating some food for thought to nerve-racking for Queers; How "out" should I be?

With whom, whether or not, when, and how, will I clarify my sexual identity? This "clarification" is complicated because I'm not hiding anything. I'm not voluntarily hiding my sexual identity, but it's rather a matter of erasure--heteronormativity erases my Queer subjectivity, and it forces me to make this clarification on a daily basis, which non-Queers don't have to do, thanks to their straight privilege.

The situation is kind of similar for my Korean identity; with whom, whether or not, when, and how, will I clarify my Korean identity? But the significant difference is that it's much easier to "come out" as Korean when you're not in Japan. Japanese privilege doesn't disappear outside Japan, but I think it certainly lessens to some extent. Why? Because white privilege is the global standard in this particular historical moment!

And perhaps here's my internalized Western racist homophobia coming in, when I become more conscious and/or cautious with talking to people with non-Western cultural backgrounds (including Japan). Are all Muslims homophobic? No. Are all east Asians homophobic? No. But I take some time to evaluate and negotiate my relationships with them because sexuality is not so publicly debated in non-Western societies. I'd say it's much more nuanced.

Different bodies are read differently. And the bodies that are attached to a certain set of identifications and interpretations become normative. For example, the bodies that are attached to the word "gay" and what it's believed to mean are white, male, abled bodies. Of course, words are attached to the bodies, but then the bodies also begin to be attached to words. There was not even a concept of "homosexuality" in English until someone invented it. Now, there are many stereotypes regarding that word. But what I'm talking about here is larger than stereotypes--it's the power of discourse and normativity. If I were a flamboyant white man with tight-fitting clothes, I would be more accessibly read as "gay." But I'm not, and such normative bodies attached to the gay/homosexual/Queer identifications erase part of my identities and make it necessary for me to clarify. And yes, I am complaining.

I don't believe in Harvey Milk's philosophy that everyone should come out. I don't even believe in the universality of the closet. We all have different, nuanced, and fluid relationships with people we interact with, and we negotiate our identities continuously--not just one moment of disclosure that one can complete and get over with.

If Queer as a verb means to challenge anything normativized, my daily identity clarification is an act of Queering. Or even better, my whole being is an act of involuntarily militarized Queering against the heteronormative empires. And we fight by saying or not saying, out of respect and sincerity, "Oh, I actually identify as Queer" in the shared kitchen.

Bollywood Flash Mob - Trikone Chicago

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:29:00 +0000

Trikone Chicago is a group for South Asian/Desi queer and trans people with a long history in the US. They are affiliated with Trikone San Francisco which is celebrating 25 years of activism this year.

nuclear homecoming

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 11:35:00 +0000

(originally posted on facebook on Aug 7. sorry it's not really Queer)

Coming back to Japan this summer has been both disappointing and refreshing. Disappointing because people just go about their daily lives obediently saving electricity, as if the politicians' claim to denuclearize the country is appeasing enough. They don't seem to care who pushed for those nuclear plants in the first place (politicians and well-paid scientists), and how it was pushed (by the U.S.). If anything, this whole thing only proved that the Japanese politicians have no ideology to act upon. No vision, no ideal, no nothing. They'll change their minds for sure tomorrow, when another disastrous incident happens--or not.

Disappointing may not be the right word, for I had already known how people were reacting. It's more like disheartening, watching the nation uniting itself as one ethnic group on every occasion imaginable. Right after the earthquake, I wrote, "This havoc will no doubt transform the Japanese society more or less, but in which direction?" It has turned out, as I feared, to power-boost the disaster nationalism. Alas, nobody knows that Japan is trying to dump tons of nuclear waste into Mongolia.

Some newspaper explained why Japan, a country that had been devastated by atomic bombs, was promoting nuclear development so powerfully to begin with. A lot of those scientists have experienced the bombing themselves or in their family, and they really wanted to find ways for peaceful nuclear energy development. Perhaps they were eager to bend the arc of nuclear history towards peace. I can't totally blame them, for I might have thought very similarly. But this is the very point where academic scientific experts are required to have political insight. Who would be working at the plants? Who would be the one to sacrifice? What would be the transnational implications?

One day before the anniversary of the Hiroshima Bombing, a Zainichi Korean organization held a ceremony to commemorate the Korean victims and survivors of the attack. This is not a history taught in school, for atomic bombings must be a solely Japanese experience in order to construct the nation as a peace-loving victim who learned a lesson from the mighty U.S. The Korean monument was not allowed to be built in the Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima, so it was erected outside it. I believe I don't need to explain why the Korean ceremony was on the day before.

I was disappointed, however, that someone from the organization expressed that north Korean nuclear development needs to be stopped. From the news article, it sounded like this person did not understand why north Korea needed to develop nuclear capability in the first place. It also sounded like this person regarded north Korea as an evil enemy. Is that really the productive attitude if we ever want Korean unification? Obviously, I would have to slightly disagree with them. If your country has been at war with the U.S. for five or six decades, of course you'll want a nuclear weapon to defend yourself, especially when that's the only card that's been truly helpful in bringing the U.S. to the table for peace talks. I do believe in denuclearization of the entire world, but we can't just believe what the bully tells us. We have to look at the history and think for ourselves. We have to check our assumptions.

It's easy to say you're against nuclear everything. But are you willing to do what it takes? Are you willing to cook rice in a pot instead of a rice cooker? Are you willing to ride a bike instead of driving a car? Are you willing to use a fan instead of an A/C? Are you willing to only eat locally produced foods? Are you willing to pick up a guitar instead of an iPod? Are you willing to study from both books and other People instead of a flatscreen TV? Are you willing to study at all?

I am, and I'm hopeful. I believe in human creativity. We are stupid, ignorant, and miserably destructive. But I am still here alive because of the Power within.

My homecoming has also been refreshing because of the people I love. I have grown up enough to recognize the beauty I have always been surrounded by. It's also because of the people I meet, who remind me that I'm not struggling alone. This summer, I am finally comfortable calling this place (a) home.

Film Festival: Inside Out, Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Thu, 12 May 2011 17:04:00 +0000

Inside Out, Toronto's premiere LGBT Film and Video Festival starts in a week! Visit their site to check the schedule and buy your tickets.

I am super excited about Together, With Love from Le(z)Banon and Pa(lez)tine, Cirumstance, Weekend and the Queer Video Mentorship Project

Last year I spent three (very queer-less) months in India, and arrived back in Toronto the day before Inside Out started. It was the festival that brought me back to my life here, made me feel a little more normal and re-connected me to the city and the queer community. Obviously I have a soft spot for Inside out!

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 12:57:00 +0000

I heard about Elisha Lim and 100 Butches long before we met. Elisha's sister Thea lived with friends on my street and I remember having a conversation about her older sibling, then living in London. When I finally met Elisha about three years later, the anticipation for 100 Butches held a certain kind of hope for me. It sounded exciting, refreshing – an indication of where queerness and specifically queerness for people of colour was heading in North America. The idea that 100 comics of our people holds so much anticipation is a little heart breaking to me, and speaks to the lack of representation for our community.

Elisha Lim is a mixed-race Chinese, trans-identified, queer artist who grew up in Toronto and Singapore. In 2007 they were broke and struggling in London. Responding to Diva Magazine’s search for comics and advice from a fortune teller to draw two years prior, Elisha was inspired by the German butches they were living with at the time and pitched the idea. It evolved into something different for Diva, but 100 Butches continued to develop and will be published as two volumes in the fall of 2011. Elisha talks about the need for representation of people, bodies which do not conform, namely gender-queers and people of colour. Only five butches out of the fifty in each volume will be of white people. Elisha’s goal is to share the stories of people who are often invisible, make them sexy and appealing in a way that society is still grappling with.

Elisha was invited to exhibit their first fifty butches as the opening artist for Toronto’s new Feminist Art Gallery. The founders of FAG, lesbian art world power couple Deidre Logue and Allyson Mitchell who have been working and living in Toronto for almost 20 years, had seen Elisha’s work in No More Potlucks and seen them perform with the Sex Appeals – Elisha is also a musician. In the words of Deidre and Allyson, FAG is a feminist art gallery born from the need for space for “politicized feminist and queer work that we wanted to see on the Toronto scene.” Housed in their backyard, the gallery is privately owned and funded by donations from community members.

The fifty butches are based on historical figures and real people Elisha has met and spent time with. Elisha draws people they are attracted to and accompanies each comic with a written story. I know several of the butches, they are queers around town and I’m curious about the attraction so I prod Elisha for more; part gossip, part intrigue. Elisha says the attraction could be physical, sexual or based on curiosity, but it’s also about wanting to be a bit like the butches, embody them in some way. In their words, it’s “also a fascination about the effects of butches in a homophobic society,” see Samira above.

The irony of the project is that most of the featured butches don’t identify as butch, yet still wanted to be included. It’s an interesting time in our community. The comics and stories explore the complicated and sometimes confusing ways people identify and their sexuality and gender expression in relation to how society, and specifically Elisha sees them. Essentially it’s a celebration of masculinity.

The project doesn’t reject the ideas of butch and femme, but seeks to complicate them. Elisha is indeed also attracted to femmes and is working on a 100 Femmes project with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha. Elisha talks about trans misogyny; the invisibility of trans women not only in mainstream society but also within our own trans and queer communities. They had no problem finding a publisher and funding for 100 Butches, however the sell for 100 Femmes has not been as easy. As a sometimes femme-identified queer woman, I am not surprised. More often than not I am read as straight, even in the queerest of spaces, hanging on to her fags like a hag!

Elisha and I also talk about being Third Culture Kids, commiserating about a constant longing that comes with the experience of being raised away from home and living apart from immediate family. In the butches I can see and relate to Elisha's journey for something deeper than what is presented, something more like home. Elisha may be attracted to what they see on the outside, but it’s the butches personal stories which are drawn out in 100 Butches.

As Elisha continues to seek representation they want to ask our readers, “where do you feel really proud of queer Asian visibility? When is it token and when is it me? How do we achieve real representation?” Please post your ideas, thoughts, comments, stories here.

The show opened at FAG on April 9th and runs for two months. Elisha reads 10 comics live every other Saturday.

Gandhi was Gay?

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 12:58:00 +0000

Have you heard the news, Gandhi was gay? No seriously. A new book, Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle With India by Joseph Lelyveld was banned in the Indian state of Gujarat last week for claiming that Gandhi had a gay relationship with Hermann Kallenbach who gave up a life of luxury in Germany to spend time communing with Gandhi.

Paul Rudnick wrote, "I Was Gandhi's Boyfriend" for the New Yorker. It's a satirical attempt at summarising this 'new' information, but it offended me on many levels, primarily because it plays on contermporary gay stereotypes and oversimplifies the relationship between Gandhi and Kallenbach, missing some cultural nuances.

Here's an article published in the Times of India Crest edition, written by Vikram Doctor who suggests that the relationship was more like a mentor-disciple, and I think I agree.

More than just a friend
Kallenbach was for Gandhi nothing as simple as a lover. In the long run, he was something rather more important, his first real disciple
VIKRAM DOCTOR

Nothing about the relationship between Mohandas Gandhi and Hermann Kallenbach sounds as strange as the terms they used for each other — Upper House and Lower House, respectively. Yet Hanna Lazar, Kallenbach’s niece, who lived with him for years, gave a logical explanation for them in a letter to Pyarelal, Gandhi’s secretary and biographer. She wrote: “in the English parliament there is a Senate = Upper House, and the Executive = Lower House, or the Law Giver and the one who carries out the Laws.” This is not quite accurate as a description of the English parliament, but her meaning is clear: Gandhi was the conceptualiser and Kallenbach the implementer.

Better than anything else, this shows what Kallenbach was for Gandhi — nothing as simple as a lover, but something rather more important in the long run, his first real disciple, which is, of course, a relationship that can, of course, carry quite a measure of love. Gandhi’s capacity to attract the devotion of people was perhaps what really marked him out as a leader from the start, but even among them, Kallenbach occupies a special place. Where others were often clergymen, teachers or minor tradesmen, Kallenbach was a successful architect and a relatively wealthy man. Yet he was willing to put all this aside to follow Gandhi.

The change was remarkable. Gandhi would write that Kallenbach led a life of “luxury and extravagance” before they met. He followed Gandhi’s often really experimental diets, sometimes only fruits or nuts. He gifted Tolstoy Farm to the satyagrahis, helping not just to design their houses, but physically build them as well. Because they needed footwear, he learned sandal making, which he taught Gandhi — the many sandals that Gandhi would wear and gift during his life are thanks to Kallenbach.

What drove him to all this is a mystery since Kallenbach also had a gift for self-containment. This is not just because his letters have not survived. Even where one hears his voice directly, for example in an account of the march to Transvaal that he wrote for his sister, he does not foreground himself. There was much drama during the march, some of it involving him — he was challenged to a duel at one point, and faced the fury of other whites who saw him as a traitor. Yet he sticks to facts, giving more importance to the logistics, which he was in charge of, having to ensure they had food and shelter on their way, than to his personal challenges and feelings.

There was something monkish about Kallenbach, which perhaps might explain his lifelong bachelorhood. The only hint he ever gives is in a letter to his brother, where he writes that after having met Gandhi he had given up first meat, then fish “and for the last 18 months I have given up my sex life”. He feels much better for all this, he says, but adds an interesting note: “Notwithstanding, I shall change my life, even tomorrow — should I feel this way of living should not suit me.”

From his childhood in Germany, where he was an athletic youth, to his apprenticeship as a carpenter before becoming an architect, to his years in South Africa, as an architect and then activist, to his internment during WWI in a prison camp for enemy aliens on the Isle of Man, where he worked in the hospital and taught his fellow inmates, to restarting his architectural practice in South Africa, developing a whole suburb, to his support for the kibbutz movement in Israel — always with Kallenbach, the emphasis is on the material and physical, not in an unthinking way, but just willing himself to do what the circumstances required.

Perhaps the daftest part of the current allegations is the suggestion that Gandhi left his family to be with Kallenbach; in fact, it was more like Kallenbach was appropriated as an elder family member. He was held in some awe, because he did have a temper that could be unleashed and tended to demand strict behaviour all around. But he became a mentor to Gandhi’s sons, for example, going to fetch Harilal back from Mozambique when he ran away in an early revolt. He was particularly close to Ramdas, who lived with him a while, but it was Manilal, who Gandhi left in South Africa to continue his work, who had the longest association with him. He kept his connection with Gandhi alive through letters, and two visits, in 1937 and 1939, living at Wardha and wearing a khadi dhoti.

It was at the last visit where he had a remarkable encounter. Gandhi was visited by a Captain Strunk, an associate of Hitler, who worked on the Nazi party paper and functioned as a sort of roving agent for the party. Strunk seemed to be visiting India partly to see if Gandhi’s views against Western civilisation could dovetail with the Nazis. Gandhi listened to him politely, and then pointed to Kallenbach who was sitting quietly next to him in a dhoti. “Here is a live Jew and a German Jew, if you please,” he said. “I should like to understand from you why the Jews are being persecuted in Germany?” Strunk was entirely taken aback, and even apologised in a lame way. It was, as always, an example of the service Kallenbach could provide just by his quiet presence next to Gandhi.
•

Media Victory in India!

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 16:55:00 +0000

This letter has been posted with permission from Aditya Bondyopadhyay

Dear Friends,

As I had reported earlier, TV9 had aired a Telegu language news feature where they had taken profiles, pictures, and phone numbers from the gay dating site Planet Romeo, and revealed them on prime time. They had also called up some of he guys and asked them leading questions on their sexual practices under the pretense of being another user and prospective date from planet Romeo.

My organisation, "Adhikaar" had at that time sent a legal notice to TV9 detailing the violations that they have committed under the NBA guidelines and asked for an apology. Wide publicity was given in both the media and in forums like Facebook and on the internet to this notice. The community mobilised and held protests against TV9 offices in many cities including Delhi, Bangalore, Mumbai, Hyderabad, and Kolkata.

TV9 had an allowed period of 7 days within which they were to have responded to the notice sent to them from Adhikaar. They failed and/or neglected to do so. We had therefore set a deadline of end March to file a complaint before The News Broadcasting Standards Authority against TV9. It now transpires that after the publicity that was given to the matter post our notice and protests against TV9, the The News Broadcasting Standards Authority took suo-moto cognizance of the matter and sent a notice to TV9. It thereafter proceeded against TV9 and has now censured TV9 to pay a fine of Rs.1,00,000 and broadcast an apology in prime time both in English and in Telugu.

NBA has determined that TV9 has violated the following codes of ethics and
broadcasting standards by publishing the story “Gay culture rampant in
Hyderabad”
Clause 5: Sex and Nudity
Clause 6: Privacy
Clause 9: Sting operations

View the news of the order at : http://gaysifamily.com/2011/03/24/tv9-pays-the-price/

It is a victory for the community and and we all should celebrate. But at the same time we all should now also become more vigilant that no such violation is done by any other media house in the future, and if they do, we protest and we bring bring it to the notice of the NBSA. 3 cheers to all who worked and protested. We came together as a community and we won. Congratulations..!!

Best to all,
Aditya Bondyopadhyay

wiqaablog: Dragon Age 2

noreply@blogger.com (Robert) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 05:21:00 +0000

So, Dragon Age 2 came out about two weeks ago, and, in addition to default male Hawke being the hottest thing ever, it is possible to have MSM and WSW in the unmodded game.

I, of course, am too cheap to shell out the $60 required to buy it, so I'm stuck watching youtube screencaps and browsing the GameFAQs message boards. You will be happy to know that I have discovered these activities to be almost as amusing as playing the actual game.

Aside from GameFAQs being a general "Tee-hee" factory (with topics such as the pictured "can my char romnce his sister shes hot" and "I'm naming my character Mike since his last name is Hawke" [say it out loud]), it has proven to be an interesting place to view the popular opinions of our future leaders (HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA okay maybe future voters) on topics of homosexuality in new media. It should be noted that discussions are rare, and that in a somewhat heartening turn of events, most people don't seem to care. But in the very large flame-war-y threads, there's lots of impassioned argument. Here's what I've found.

Statement 1: Bioware rushed this game and people complained that they couldn't bone Alistair as a dude in DA:O without a mod, so they made anyone able to romance anyone. Shame on you for doing a shoddy job, Bioware!

Let's not lie. Dragon Age II was pushed out in 18 months. The quality of in-game graphics is fairly low, in comparison to the original game, and there are complaints of map/dungeon copy-pasta. Decision trees to take into account from previous games also makes the amount of plot-clutter very high. It is very likely that having player-blind romance options was the easiest solution to a time/money crunch, and it pleased players that wanted more options.

Unforts, not having variation across genders disrupts "immersion," and devalues something that Bioware puts a lot of effort into. But, let's be real, modeling romance off of dialogue options is a heroic task and we shouldn't really shit on them for trying.

(The argument for a gender-neutral world: yes, it's a nice agenda to have, but it's executed somewhat mindlessly, and in this sense it is either elegant or clumsy in that it doesn't parallel reality. Elegant in the sense that the developers are showing they can do whatever they want in the context of a game and that maybe we can strive for this, clumsy in that it is impossible in the real world because it ignores the fact that boys and girls are different.)

Statement 2: This Anders male on male romance is so poorly written that is why I am giving this youtube video a thumbs down not because it's gay really.

I don't think it's badly written. But I don't purport to be the authority on any of this. I should say I enjoyed the face sucking noises.

It should be noted also that Youtube is full of terrible people that have of rationalizing logic to smear across any spots that cause them discomfort. On the internet, you can never really tell who's trolling you and who isn't.

Statement 3: This game was created unequally! The women options are gross/inaccessible! The men options are great/very present!

I'm sorry you're suddenly dealing with the problem the gamers who wanted more same-sex options had to face in the 5 games before. But, maybe if you like the dark, brooding Fenris's personality, and think Isabela is just gross, you should bone Fenris, because, HEY, YOU CAN!

Hate to break it to you, folks, but in real life, some people are gross, and some people are inaccessible, and some people are great, and some people are open without being a diseased rusty gate. Most of the time you don't even have the option of deciding whether or not you want to romance them.

Statement 4: OMG this dude Anders is coming on to me!!!! This doesn't happen in real life and I have to tell him no before he has buttsex with me!! Oh shit now my friendship meter went down. (from the bioware social forums)

The most diplomatic responses are already posed in the thread. People don't like it when you reject them, but they get the picture. Reject him, and then be friends with him. Isabela also appears to be a pushy and come-on-y, and nobody seems to complain about that. There appears to be, possibly, a bit of "conversion anxiety," which is a good issue to address, because in the end the game itself teaches us a good lesson. If you don't want someone to be romantically interested in you, tell them "no." It's not that challenging.

Statement 5: "Why can't any of my characters do Varric? He's the coolest of them all."

Response:
(Image courtesy of Aimo.)

((Varric is cool partly because of his inaccessibility. My entire take on the whole thing is that adding the realm of "optional romances" to a video game breaks things in a certain way. Having the crutch of romance tends to cheapen the experience by imposing on it a certain lens--how we perceive the notion of romance fits into a very schematized view of the world and it allows developers to play up on certain slightly stale qualities as opposed to actually creating stronger personalities. But more on that another time.))

---

Final thoughts: To summarize, there are definitely voiced and unvoiced opinions. I can't speak for those who don't want to share, but if I had to guess, I'd posit that there's a general sense of mute tolerance ranging more on the "tolerance" end of things (as opposed to the ally/empowerment end). The vocal forum-posting minority has an even smaller vocal slightly homophobic minority in it. Within the group of those that group, there's variation. Responses range from "it makes me uncomfortable and I don't think like it" to "STOP FORCING IT ON ME OMG MAKE IT GO AWAY."

What's interesting is that you can see dialogue in action in an informal setting, outside of highfalutin queer studies circles, which I think is useful, and possibly the point of highfalutin queer studies circles.

I personally like the choice of romancing whoever I find the most appealing. Maker knows we get judged enough on our physical manifestations IRL, as opposed to our disembodied decisions. Sometimes it's nice to know that the "contents of our character" can be punched down into neat dialogue-wheel-shaped choices and that, at times, that's enough to get some. Thank you again, video games, for helping us ignore the terrible realities of who we are.

Last, but not least,

VARRIC-HAWKE-VARRIC-HAWKE-VARRIC-HAWKE!!! shipshipshipshipship

Toronto Event: TOO ASIAN!!! (Don't Tell Tiger Mom!) A Granny Boots Presentation

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 20:49:00 +0000

Granny Boots presents:

TOO ASIAN!!! (Don't Tell Tiger Mom!)
March 23, 2011
7:30PM
Gladstone Hotel, Melody Bar
FREE

It's an ASIAN INVASION of the Gladstone! A night of Burlesque! Hip Hop! Spoken Word! Dance!

Performances by:
Sze Yang (ILL NANA/DiverseCity Dance Company)
Ramon Vitug
Mya Tran
Wrong Note Rusty (Boylesque TO)
Man Chyna (Boylesque TO)

And tunes by
DJ Winnie

If Tiger Mom asks, this is a study group. ;)

Granny Boots is early evening entertainment for queer folk who like to be in bed by 11. Every wednesday Ryan G. Hinds curates a different theme, host or event: from live music to drag, radical politics to spoken word, you and your Granny get to be home early AND entertained all in one night!

Toronto: Asian Arts Freedom School is back!

noreply@blogger.com (rachna) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 19:42:00 +0000

Histories, Their-Stories, OUR-stories: First Workshop of the Season!

Asian Arts Freedom School Cycle 12

March 23, 2011, 6:00-8:30pm

167 Augusta Avenue

Kapisanan Philippine Centre (in the basement)

*unfortunately this location is not wheelchair accessible*

Get Ready for another round of Asian Arts Freedom School and all things about radical Asian history we DON’T learn in school!

Many of us are taught to visualize history as a line with a bunch of dots indicating dates and names, where the past never influences the present. This cycle of writing and arts-based workshops is about turning that idea of history on its head: we’ll explore the links between then and now, make visible what is often forgotten, and have the chance to learn about, express and create the histories, herstories and nevertoldstories that are relevant and important to us.

Come to this first workshop to listen, share your thoughts and participate in writing, art and storytelling exercises. Let’s expand the possibilities of history and creativity on our own terms!

AAFS is a drop-in space for self-identified Asian youth and no registration is required. Come to one workshop, come to some, come to them all! All levels of writing and creative skill are welcome. Food and TTC tokens are always available!

__._,_.___

so. damn. heart-touching.

noreply@blogger.com (charles) — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 03:53:00 +0000

Let me preface. I hate the title (and comments, go figure) on this youtube but couldn't find a version of it uploaded elsewhere. Instead of going into an analysis of this (any other wiqaabloggers want to dive into this one?), just watch, rewatch, and rewatch this lovely, beautiful performance. the tone is just so pleasant. it's just fantastic. Anyone know the name of this song?

Can't. Stop. Smiling. and the ending interview makes me tear up.

*Update* I hated the gender binary enforcing title so much that I decided to just upload my own version of the video. Complete with lyrics and English subtitles too. Can't stop watching ... it's one of the most beautiful things I've seen in such a long time.

decompression op.1

noreply@blogger.com (Haruki) — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 00:47:00 +0000

I heard the news about the earthquake and tsunami after I gave a presentation on Japan's anti-war education in a Zainichi panel at the Critical Ethnic Studies Conference. My first thought was that it would be just another relatively big incident that's not too serious. I thought so because Japan is used to natural disasters; my own grandma's house was demolished by an earthquake in 1995, and she was rescued from underneath. It happens all the time. I was too busy celebrating the success of the panel with friends with some beers and fries.

It was when I came back to the hotel that I realized the extent of the calamity, watching the footage of water washing away houses, cars, buildings, trees, boats, people, everything. It was horrifying. But I still continued to be preoccupied with the conference and managed to not think about it until I came home.

I knew my family was safe, and I personally don't know anyone in the areas most devastated. My family was shopping for my sister's moving for college in a couple of weeks when I finally contacted my mom, who was happy about purchasing a MUJI rice cooker for half the price at a local brand-new outlet mall.

But as I kept watching a Japanese news prgram through Ustream, I found myself arrested by the reports, or lack thereof, and unable to stop watching or go to bed. Without anything else to preoccupy my mind, I began to feel anxious, stressed, and depressed. I began to vividly imagine the people being washed away and the thousands of bodies scattered all around the land and sea. I won't be able to see any disaster movie for, who knows, a few years?

I am worried about the nuclear plants meltdown. I am worried about the survivors. I am worried about non-Japanese, disabled, and Queer/Trans survivors. I am worried about the environmental destruction. In 1995, we completely lost my grandma's house in the overly crowded Korean ghetto; now that she passed too, in 2002, it's like I don't have any more historical evidence to substantiate my Korean heritage. Wounds might heal, but scars will forever stay.

This havoc will no doubt transform the Japanese society more or less, but in which direction? I see Japanese flags all over facebook, which makes me want to vomit. I hear people attributing people's "calmness," "resilience," "civility," and "strength" to Japanese ethnicity as if they are superior than others, particularly African Americans after the hurricane Katrina. I am angered and frustrated. In the aftermath of the 1923 earthquake, many Koreans were slaughtered as scapegoats as rumors spread that Koreans poisoned wells, along with Okinawans who were mistaken for Koreans. In 1995, aid was not distributed evenly to everyone, leaving non-Japanese survivors short of resources. For me, disasters always come with flashbacks of historical trauma of Japanese nationalism and xenophobia.

I'm not even physically there, but I'm emotionally being overwhelmed. So I write. I am scared of going back to Japan this summer to see, hear, touch, smell, taste, and sense those irreversible changes. My brain says I'm privileged to not be there, by my heart feels left out. It wants to be there to feel everything. It wants to be there to share its absolute despair and absolute hope with people. It's disheartening.

It's not that "I can't do anything." In fact, I don't want to do anything. After the earthquake in Haiti, I donated money; not this time. I don't feel like doing that. I don't know why. I'm not even there, and I'm being impacted so much, and I don't want to do anything. You can say I'm selfish, but I don't feel any guilty. At least not yet.

This whole thing might discourage Japan from having nuclear plants, but it might encourage more money into the police and the Self Defense Force for further militarization and state control in the name of emergency preparation. As U.S. soldiers from Okinawa arrive at the ground zero, their existence in Japan is inevitably being reevaluated--most likely favorably.

Amidst of everything, the ultra-right-wing current governor of the Tokyo Metropolis, who have used derogatory terms for Koreans and called homosexuals "defunct" in the past, stated that this calamity is a "punishment by heaven." He also indicated that lootings wouldn't happen in Japan unlike Black America. I am hoping that this will result in the complete end of his political life as an election for his position is coming up. I will see how (un)reasonable the residents in Tokyo turn out to be.

My struggle for psychological health will continue, against the rise of disaster nationalism. I need to learn how to take care of myself better than this. I'm losing sleep, and it's 7am right now, but I think I can finally go to bed. I wish that I won't wake up to any more bad news.