For many, polyamory or monogamy are not fixed modes of moving through dating and relationships. These things can change over time, fluctuate depending on partners, and look like a lot of different things to different people. Some people consider themselves monogamous but allow space for flirting or kissing outside of the relationship. Non-monogamy can take a lot of different shapes, too, and can often be so personal. Discourse around polyamory and monogamy sometimes flattens these realities. To demonstrate the wide range of possibilities, we asked our team to describe where they fall on the polyamory/monogamy spectrum. What’s your own relationship to polyamory and/or monogamy? Has it changed over time? Let us know in the comments!
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AF+ Crossword Has Joined a Fantasy League
How Dare ‘Hacks’ Be This Good?!
The following is a recap of Hacks season four, episode six, “Mrs. Table” written by Carolyn Lipka and directed by Paul W. Downs.
This season of Hacks keeps blowing me away. Every week, I text my friends in awe about this fourth season, about how the series has never really run out of steam, even as it’s technically repeating the same big beats over and over again. Ava and Deborah come together, are driven apart, come back together, are driven apart, and so on and so forth, like two star-crossed lovers fated to repeat the same cycles and constantly be in want of something the other can’t give. That tension, that repetition, none of it would work without dynamic writing and nuanced performances, which of course Hacks has in spades.
Specificity in the various subplots of course also keeps things feeling fresh, but those alone aren’t where Hacks‘ magic lives. It almost has more in common with a series like Mad Men than with other streamer comedies. Mad Men always managed to make agency shakeups and the constant rotation of names into and out of Sterling Cooper thrilling even as they were technically hitting the same beats repeatedly. Hacks, similarly an exploration of power, ambition, and work, also maintains consistent dramatic tension and intrigue in its central power struggle and the back and forth of Ava and Deborah’s careers. Am I saying Ava is the Peggy to Deborah’s Don? I think I am! It’s not a perfect parallel, but it does work on some levels.
We’re a little over halfway through season four, and we’re thrust into a different part of Ava and Deborah’s toxic cycle. After pushing each other away and being at each other’s throats all season, the tides change. They’re moving toward each other again.
But they really have to reach their breaking points to get there. Midway through this episode, Ava has a spectacular mental breakdown. Hannah Einbinder is phenomenal at portraying Ava on the brink. She screams, she throws an entire grilled branzino at a window, she drives full force through a security gate on the lot like a woman not just on the edge but already falling off of it.
Ava is understandably pushed to this point by the events that precede it in the episode. It all starts with the news that Ava’s ex Ruby, star of Wolf Girl, will be a guest on the show (others will argue Einbinder deserves awards for many other parts of this episode, but I personally think she deserves them simply for her line reading of “I almost married her, in my opinion.”), prompting Ava to get an unhinged makeover and generally spiral in Ruby’s presence in her attempts to seem Totally Cool and Put Together. She even manages to deliver the news she’s dating a couple in the most awkward way imaginable. Ruby, a consummate professional, assures Ava she’s fine being interviewed by Deborah, despite Deborah and Ava’s unhealthy attachment to Deborah contributing to their breakup.
Ruby does keep it professional, but Deborah makes it personal. She asks, on camera, for Ruby to share the story of the ring, intentionally mortifying Ava. This would be diabolical under any circumstances, but the fact that it seems so premeditated makes it that much worse. Previously in the episode, Deborah rejects all of the writers’ jokes for a desk bit for the episode, forcing Ava to frantically come up with a slew of more alts. (This is such a physical episode for Einbinder, and watching her crash into people as she runs down the hallway to deliver the alts is just one of many physical comedy feats she pulls off in the episode.) Deborah rejects those, too, and says they’ll just have to extend Ruby’s interview to fill the space. I think this means Deborah was planning to pull the ring and failed engagement story out of Ruby this whole time.
And why? I believe it’s because of her encounter with Ava at the end of last episode, when Ava icily told Deborah the couple she’s dating haven’t seen the show yet because she told them to wait until it got good. I really do think Deborah is petty enough to want to embarrass Ava as a form of emotional revenge. She has proven to be just that wicked over and over, and there’s a certain pleasure she always takes in tormenting Ava, one of the people who sees and understands her the most.
Ava heads to the couple’s house, quite literally interrupting their cozy night in with a jumpscare. In Ava’s mind, her arrangement with the couple has been perfect. She’s too busy working to really be a steadfast and emotional presence in a relationship, so they can provide that for each other and she can just have really hot sex with both of them whenever she wants, as we see her do in last week’s episode in, indeed, a VERY HOT sex scene. The couple doesn’t feel the same way though. They feel used for sex and like Ava doesn’t want to actually get to know them. This wasn’t what they were looking for. I’m so into the turn here, because it isn’t really like any storyline about polyamory or open relationships I’ve seen on television before. Often with other portrayals, it’s the third who feels used, or the couple bring a third in to deflect ongoing problems. But Hacks delivers something more interesting and expansive here; this couple wants Ava to be a more equal part in the relationship than she currently is. They want the emotional intimacy from her, too, something Ava mistakenly assumed wasn’t part of the arrangement at all. And so now, she’s dumped, another excruciatingly awkward moment as Ava’s expectations deviate wildly from reality. It takes her far too long to realize she’s being dumped, and even as she’s about to leave, it’s like she thinks they’ll change their mind. But they only ask her to stop so she can return her key, not to beg her back like perhaps she was hoping for.
Freshly dumped and pissed off about the interview with Ruby, she delivers a big “fuck you” to Deborah before she gets to the branzino that breaks the bisexual’s back. She has been so obsessed with trying to be a good boss to her writers, perhaps subconsciously trying to prove she isn’t the kind of boss Deborah is, but she has overcorrected. She’s too nice. She has been subsidizing their lunches when they go over the studio caps, but her writers have been taking advantage of her, using her lax policies to get away with things like claiming getting a tooth gem is a reasonable mental health excuse to show up late for work. They’re also adding extravagant food orders to their lunch deliveries for “Mrs. Table,” the title of the episode and the fake name they use when they want to order something “for the table” like, for example, a $72 whole branzino. Ava has been subsidizing their luxe add-ons. This is, indeed, enough to bring Ava to a breakdown that has been building for some time as she has struggled to adjust to the realities of the very difficult new job. She has her aforementioned branzino breakdown (god, Einbinder’s voice breaking on “living wage”…I know I’m fawning over Einbinder’s performance and delivery a lot in this episode, but it’s so extremely warranted)
screams that she quits driving away in rage.
Deborah, meanwhile, receives a comedy award that’s mostly a publicity stunt. Rosie O’Donnell is here, playing herself, apparently an old friend of Deborah’s. Rosie asks how all this happened, Deborah’s recent success and thrust into the comedy limelight again. Did she do ayahuasca perhaps? Deborah gives some pat answer about hard work, timing, luck. “No, you got better,” Rosie says. “You don’t just get better. Comedy is like sports. Nobody starts dunking at 60 years old.” Deborah says she just found her voice. She’s doing her Deborah thing of thinking only about herself. She’s feeling sorry for herself about this fake award and about all the stupid lifeless video content she has been forced to create throughout the episode, like pretending to catch a bag of Fritos thrown by Mariska Hargitay. And feeling sorry for herself means she isn’t thinking about the people around her who make her great, who have helped her start dunking late in life. (As a side note, I love this apt comparison of comedy to sports as a writer-athlete myself — there’s so much overlap between the two, and creative pursuits require just as much discipline as sports, even if they aren’t always valued on the same pedestal as athletics are by society. Like when people suggest AI can replace writers, I wanna be like CAN AI REPLACE YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE, BITCH?!)
Deborah comes home from her award ceremony to an empty house. Damien is away retrieving bear piss to combat the coyotes. Josefina is gone to help DJ deliver her baby, a reminder that even when it comes to the role of motherhood, Deborah is constantly hiring out the labor of her life. It’s just her and her corgis. Only, just one corgi greets her at the door. Earlier in the episode, Josefina reminds Deborah to close the doggy door so the dogs can’t get out while she’s away, given the coyotes. I knew that couldn’t just be a throwaway line. Deborah sees her other dog on her security footage, having a standoff with a coyote. She runs out and throws her award, scaring off the coyote and scooping up the dog, who seems alright, but it was a close call. “I should have protected you, I should have protected you,” she echoes, prompting me to shout at my screen: WELL, YOU BETTER GO SAVE AVA NOW.
And indeed, that’s exactly what she does. Jimmy and Kayla are also on the lookout (“Have you seen a lesbian ginger?” Kayla asks a random person at The Americana). Deborah decides to drive around Silverlake looking for, I don’t know, an Ava-coded establishment? Well, she finds one! It’s Girl Twirl: a night of queer line dancing at El Cid, and Deborah’s asks a bunch of LA gays in line if they’ve seen this woman, flashing a photo of Ava. They have not, but one helpful queer suggests Deborah use the Find My app to locate Ava. Of course they have each other’s locations.
The app brings Deborah to the ocean, where she spots a red head walking out to sea. Deborah thinks it’s Ava, who cannot swim, and swims out to save her. The image of Deborah Vance diving headfirst under a wave in a fur coat will forever live with me. It’s not Ava though, just some girl going on a chilly night swim to train for the polar bear plunge. Ava is on the shore, walking on the beach.
“Yeah, I’m not suicidal, I just wanna die,” Ava tells Deborah in yet another great line reading from Einbinder. “I’m not actually gonna self-harm, okay?” she continues. “And if I was going to kill myself, I wouldn’t do it Virginia Woolf-style and walk into the freezing ocean. I’d do pills or wear a suicide vest on Watch What Happens Live,” Deborah finishes the last part of the sentence in unison with her, suggesting this topic has come up before.
The two sit together at a seaside seafood shack, and Ava explains that she just got in the car and drove after her freak out, ending up at the beach, which she admits is very “first thought” during a breakdown. She tells Deborah she quit, but Deborah says she can’t. She’s the youngest head writer in late night history. In an industry full of ups and downs, she’s up right now, and she has to stay there. But Ava feels like she sucks at the job, like Deborah was right, it was never going to be the right fit for her. Deborah assures her that the only reason she’s failing is because Deborah set her up to fail. She wants another change, even though she knows she doesn’t deserve one. She promises to make it up to Ava, prompting this emotional exchange:
Ava: Don’t say that, please don’t say that, because when you say that I want to believe you, but you always let me down.
Deborah: I won’t this time.
Ava: I can’t trust you.
Deborah: I understand why you feel that way, but I’m begging you. What do I have to do? Run back into that ocean? Because I will.
Ava: Even if I did come back, I don’t know if I can do the job. I don’t even know your voice anymore.
Deborah: You are my voice.
Finally, the thing Deborah was too up her own ass to say to Rosie comes out. You are my voice. Deborah could not have gotten late night without Ava. She could not have revitalized her career or grown from her offensive comedy past without Ava. The intimacy of this declaration, that Ava is inextricable from Deborah’s voice, is difficult to define. While I don’t pretend to believe Deborah and Ava would ever become explicitly romantic or sexual in their relationship, I also don’t want or need that, because what they do have is far more compelling and complex, a relationship that’s hard to put into words in the way mentor/mentee relationships (a favorite dynamic of mine, especially when it skews toxic) often are, especially in creative fields. Deborah and Ava’s relationship might not be explicitly romantic, but it contains all the intimacy, intensity, and layers of a romantic relationship, just expressed through a different mode.
And yes, I burst into tears after “you are my voice,” the second time this season has made me openly weep. It doesn’t help that the music cue right after “you are my voice” is the same as the one where Deborah looked out into her studio stands and saw only Ava.
They haven’t patched things over perfectly of course. That isn’t really possible. Ava hates Deborah now, and says as much. But Deborah points out that makes her a part of a vibrant community of Deborah Haters. Most importantly, they resolve to actually work together again, to have fun, something neither of them have been having since the show started. They’re not going to go broad anymore; they’re going to make the show for themselves.
Ava retrieves the bottle of Krug she bought at the end of last season from her car. It tastes like shit now, but it’s still powerfully symbolic of this coming together. Deborah once said the only time she’s lonely is when opening a bottle of Krug. Here they are, sharing it, both still lonely in the lives they’ve constructed for themselves and the ways they’ve put their careers ahead of everything, but together in that loneliness at least. And hopefully this is just the beginning of them starting to make good shit together again.
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I think the thing that made me scream was realizing “you aren’t over your last relationship. She really hurt you” was about Deborah and not Ruby
Isabela Merced and Bella Ramsey’s Real Life Queerness Deepened ‘The Last of Us’

Photo by Amy Sussman/GA/The Hollywood Reporter via Getty Images
The Last of Us Episode 204’s Queer Scenes Brought To You By Two Queer Actors and a Queer Director
If you thought that just because I write a weekly recap of The Last of Us with Nic means I don’t have anything more to say about it, you’d be mistaken. FOR EXAMPLE, this week, Isabela Merced did an interview where she talked about the love scene between Ellie and Dina, and she said it felt as tender as it looked to us as an audience. She said, “Bella and I were just so comfortable with each other. And also, we both have experience in queer relationships — you can just tell when a girl hasn’t kissed a girl before. You can just feel it.” And I think that’s really true. This comfort and understanding shone through the scene, and Isabela said they even added some extra kisses and moments while they were filming, which added to the natural feel of the whole episode.
Now, I don’t think you HAVE to be queer to play queer characters; I think especially for characters who having a coming out arc, sometimes the “straight” actors who feel drawn to that role should take it, because they might end up realizing they’re queer themselves, e.g. Dom Provost Chalkley, Kat Barrell, Chyler Leigh. But I DO think when you have two characters who are meant to show physical comfort with each other, especially right off the bat, having queer actors does elevate the scenes. While Dina wasn’t necessarily all-in on her queerness from the jump, she was physically and emotionally comfortable with Ellie, and that’s clear from Isabela’s performance. Queer people being involved also makes it feel a little more special, to me at least. Even though there are plenty of straight actors who have given us truly epic queer scenes on television in the past, there IS something undeniably special about the fact that these Ellie and Dina scenes were created by two queers actors and a queer director (Kate Herron), because they get it, they understand the importance and meaningfulness and nuances of it in a way that not even the most well-meaning straight person could.
And Kate Herron does get it and spoke to Out about episode 204 and how she loves working in the sci-fi genre and finding relatable stories amidst unrelatable worlds.
About the music store scene specifically, Herron says, “The Last of Us world is very harrowing. It’s very violent and you don’t get many moments, even just them finding a music shop where there’s no infected. It’s like we just get to be normal people just for this little moment in time, which I think is very beautiful.”
And don’t we deserve a little beautiful?
More News to Click(er) On
+ Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson will star in Jane Schoenbrun’s new film, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma
+ Ella Purnell and Ariana Greenblatt to star in a slasher comedy called Hot Ted, written by queer screenwriter Grace McLeod
+ The official trailer for Honey Don’t has Aubrey Plaza in a plain white tee leaning on a door jamb and dear god I got gayer just watching it (also her seemingly naked in a bed but for some reason the leaning got me)
+ Ts Madison has a new podcast called Outlaws that will spotlight powerful voices from the LGBTQ+ community, including Chappell Roan
+ Actress Martha Warfield talks about coming back to comedy and acting and returning to the screen out and proud in her 70s
+ Lily-Rose Depp and 070 Shake spent a date night at a Lakers game last week (and it always makes me laugh when we use people’s stage names in sentences like this but, alas, tis the job) https://people.com/lily-rose-depp-070-shake-date-night-lakers-game-11727155
+ Lorde is reading “a lot of queer writers” and is feeling her “gender broadening a little bit”
+ ICYMI, check out what the queer folks were wearing at the Met Gala
+ Related, Megan Thee Stallion snuck her phone inside and gave reviews of the food served at the Gala
+ To follow up on last week’s Pop Culture Fix about Airyn De Niro, Laverne Cox saw that she mentioned her as a woman that has inspired her over the years, and was very honored
+ I’ll leave you on this: meet the “lesbian Mr. Rogers” of TikTok
Please Stop Telling My Older Girlfriend Not to Date Me
Cage Match: Is it anyone’s business how old your adult girlfriend is?
Q
Hello all. I’m 24 and my girlfriend is 36. I’ve always been mature for my age, always dated older people, had older friends, not really related to people my own age very much. My girlfriend has never dated someone younger before me, I had to pursue her very hard to convince her to even consider me an option! Okay so recently she saw a TikTok that was like “unpopular opinion but I think it’s really fucked up for full adult women to date women under 25” or something like that. Of course the comments were in full agreement, she shared it with me, and now she is seemingly on this side of TikTok forever…. the side that is making her paranoid that she’s a pervert for being with me?
I guess what I am maybe asking is like, help me convince her that it’s ok for her to date me? I am starting to feel disillusioned with queer community in general. Everything feels so black and white these days, strangers making blanket statements about what’s okay or not for all relationships. Like aren’t we supposed to be full of nuance? How would someone on TikTok know more about my relationship than I do? Why are we deciding what is okay for other consenting adults to do like why is it anybody’s business?? Is this even an advice question?
A
Summer: I’ve found the turn against age gap relationships among young people to be really puzzling. Sizable age gaps were the default for most of human history. They often originated in an environment of hegemonic patriarchy and unequal access to resources, but an age gap isn’t inherently indicative of harm in relationships. But I’m sure you know this.
This… honestly sounds like your girlfriend, a 36 year-old is somehow letting her TikTok scroll erode her ability to think rationally about her situation. That’s not what I’d expect from someone of her age, but the endless barrage of repetitive, polarizing content that apps like TikTok supply are enough to erode anyone’s sanity.
This is destabilizing your relationship and I think you should address it. I’ll recommend the classic: a serious sit-down conversation where you discuss the issue and its consequences. Preferably with some evidence or support that isn’t TikTok dreck. If she’s not the kind of person who responds well to that kind of thing, I’d consider supplying her with nuanced (even entertaining) counter-perspectives from other online media. YouTube videos exploring this issue as it relates to queer people perhaps? Essays? We have some work on this site about the topic.
Before I go on too long, I wonder if there’s something else at play in your girlfriend’s psyche. People who are in a good space emotionally don’t flip their views this hard based on TikTok content when it may jeopardize their relationships. When people act out, they’re often trying to preserve their relationships, not develop misgivings. This may be a manifestation of a deeper issue and it’s just appearing as uncertainty about the age gap. But that’s out of my paygrade.
Valerie: I think a lot of people’s hesitancy with age-gap relationships is that very often, there’s a power imbalance at play, and the younger person is being taken advantage of and they don’t even realize it. So people generalize, and they stereotype, and they assume. Only you and your girlfriend know your situation, and if your actual friends and family and people who know you best aren’t raising any red flags, then it’s really none of TikTok’s business. It sounds like these videos are playing on some of your girlfriend’s insecurities and like Summer said, you should talk about how she’s really feeling and why these videos are affecting her. For me, the “ick” I feel about gap relationships aren’t actually ever about age, but about life stage. I’m much more likely to find red flags in boss/employee, student/teacher, adult/college student, or even famous person/fan relationships than in the actual numbers. I have a feeling that’s what people on TikTok also feel – on top of the psychologically egotistical “I am not attractive to people x age, so therefore I cannot fathom anyone else is” – but nuance is dead and empathy is dying. So I would just have this conversation with your girlfriend, reassure her that her age doesn’t bother you, and borrow her TikTok to watch videos of carpet cleaning or lesbians chopping wood to cleanse the algorithm.
Nico: TikTok is so toxic. It’s an algorithm that rewards having strong opinions (or what someone might have once called a hot take), and I agree, there is a lot of black and white thinking these days that isn’t going to help anyone. Also, TikTok can amplify insecurities because the more someone pays attention to a certain topic, the more the app is going to show it to them. I recommend that when you talk to your girlfriend, that you ask that she consider taking a break from TikTok.
Age gaps have been a normal part of queer relationships for a long time. There are fewer queer people than straight people and the dating pool is smaller. Sometimes, when queer dating, someone you have a lot in common with has some interesting and striking differences — age for example — that might be considered more unusual in a relationship by mainstream, more hetero standards. Another great example of this is the tendency for queer people to date long-distance as necessary, because sometimes someone you’re really into lives hours away. These are things that happen in relationships in our community. With an age gap in a relationship, the power gap is the most important thing. If you feel you two are on equal footing and no one is being taken advantage of, like you’re going to be taken seriously when you have this conversation, for example, then the age gap is probably not the issue. You don’t mention in your question, but is there anything else going on with your girlfriend or with you? It might be good for you to take a look at the landscape of your relationship and lives overall and try to identify where there might be pressure points that are contributing to your girlfriend’s sense of unease.
Riese: I have some empathy for your girlfriend’s paranoia — TikTok has that effect, especially if she’s someone who doesn’t always trust her own instincts for whatever reason. I think when you’re deviating from the norm, or what you’re used to, you often ask for outside opinions and are easily impacted by them as well. (Once upon a time, and even still today, this applied to queer relationships in general.) Unfortunately TikTok just delivers unsolicited outside opinions to us we didn’t ask for!
Listen — there are nearly always going to be power differentials in relationships. Age gaps are easy to put parameters around — and it’s an easy thing to moralize about — but it relies on vast assumptions about where people are in life and generalizations around maturity levels, when there are so many things in relationships that contribute to power imbalances. Stay in regular conversation about the ways in which the age gap is challenging or complicated for you both — as you should for any power differentials. Don’t be afraid to press her on this, you’ll come out stronger or at least have more clarity on the other end.
Passover has… passed (and is now over), but still: What if your gay brother’s political line in the sand with your parents is driving you nuts?
Q
I’m gay and so is my brother, and since the election he’s gone no contact with my parents because they voted for Trump, which he says is voting against his rights because he thinks Trump is coming for gay people and will take away our marriage rights. I get it but I don’t feel like white gay men are really the population in the most danger right now, sometimes he drives me crazy with this shit because stuff is ALREADY HAPPENING to trans people and that’s what is scary TO ME but he is on some other planet of hypotheticals.
Like I am mad at my parents for voting for Trump because of what Trump is doing to trans people, because I have so many trans friends. But okay that’s not even actually what I am upset about, that I’m writing about today.
I am upset because okay, so we are all Jewish. My parents are very VERY pro-Israel Zionists. And I have been fighting with them about this for a long time now to the point where I have wanted to cut ties at times, but didn’t because as my BROTHER POINTED OUT TO ME, it was good to stay in dialogue with them about it so at least SOMEONE in their lives is speaking up for Palestine. Also I feel guilty because they paid for my college and grad school and they’re old and my dad is sick.
But like I want to strangle him for opting out of the family over the election? Passover is coming up so we got in a huge fight about how he didn’t want to come to Passover but now that means I definitely have to come to Passover, they can’t have neither of us at Passover? He said finally that he would go if I INSISTED that he go, but he really doesn’t want to. It’s kosher for me to insist, right?
Who’s the asshole? It’s my brother, right?
A
Summer: This sounds like you and your brother both experiencing valid and understandable emotional stress due to the current administration’s stance on… everything. I resent the fact that people who are ostensibly on the same team are in conflict when we are all being threatened by a greater source of hostility. Like arguing over dinner reservations on the Titanic.
But look, if your brother has allowed himself to go no-contact and has done so successfully, why can’t you do it too? You’ve got the same parents. His parents are old and sick too. They paid for his upbringing. And he went no-contact. If anything, his ‘success’ at this unpleasant task should be a precedent that it’s possible for you to do so as well. No, I don’t think it’s fair that he’s asking you to stay in contact after he already bailed.
The bottom line is that this decision is yours to make. To me, it’s rather hypocritical that he’d ask things of you that he wouldn’t do. So no, you’re not the asshole here. I can understand that your brother has a tempest in his mind about many current events. I don’t think what he’s doing is seriously immoral, either. But it’s not fair. And isn’t that what so many sibling disputes come down to?
Nico: So he’s gone no contact and won’t be going to Passover, and that makes you feel like you have to go to Passover? That’s just not the case. You can make your own choices, just like your brother made his. Plus, if dialogue hasn’t worked yet, maybe it would be okay for your parents to realize that their actions have costs for them, too, not just for other people.
That said, it seems that your brother is someone who you could really have a dialogue with. He’s already concerned about, well, everything we’re living through, and you could probably get through to him that, yeah, we aren’t dealing with hypotheticals and that many people are already actively being harmed and in many cases, killed. It sounds like your brother expects labor from you that he isn’t willing to give himself, too, that he thinks you should be the someone to dialogue with your parents, for example. That’s not a fair expectation and I think you should feel free to address it.
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Without Poetry or Queerness, I Do Not Exist
I used to joke, when I was single, that it was meaningless to tell the people I dated that I’m a poet, because every lesbian is a poet. The same way “every” lesbian owns cats, doesn’t know how to flirt, and drinks iced oat milk lattes even in winter (unfortunately, all of these are also true of me). I’ll admit part of that refusal came from a sense of pretension: sure, everyone could write poetry, but I was a real poet, because I was getting a master’s in it and publishing and going to — *sexy, serious gasp* — conferences. I wasn’t like some of these Target aisle poetry books; I was working on real stuff.
I’m not above admitting that this superiority complex of mine is one I’m still working on. Now that I’m older, though, I recognize why I had that much bite when it came to the genre: I was protective of it. For me, poetry is not just a way of stacking words on a page; it’s a vocation, nearly religious. I’m Benedetta having visions (and kissing girls) in the nunnery. It is, genuinely, the most important thing in my life. It’s the reason I’m still here to live that life.
I first wrote poetry as a teenager, in the least serious way possible: My high school had a student-run literary magazine, little more than pages from the library printer stapled at the thin spines, issues churned out as we ate up the ink meant for test papers and AP History essays. I ended up editor of the magazine as the years moved forward, but as a freshman, I was just eager for the glamour of my work in print. I’d written as a kid: unfinished short stories and a comic strip that was clearly a plagiarized collage of Garfield, Calvin & Hobbes, and whatever else I read. None of those things felt appropriate or ready for the magazine though, and so I made the pivot to poetry, because it was shorter. That’s it. The art form I have now spent 15 years of my life honing was selected for me in the briefest moments of my teenage ego and laziness.
The first poems I wrote were thinly veiled Glee fanfiction arranged into stanzas, and the magazine took them (if you can imagine, it was slim pickings for a high school literary magazine). That was such a thrill: to share what I wrote, to see it in ink. Since then, I’ve written God knows how many poems and have, of course, developed a much deeper love for it beyond its mere length. Size isn’t everything.
There are a lot of different reasons people take up the pen, the brush, the camera, etc. Some people are bored; some are driven. Some want a career out of that art; some just want to pass the time. I want a career out of poetry, even if the definition of “career poet” may look a lot different in 2025 than it did in 1650. But to call poetry a “career ambition” feels too watered-down. I’m not in it for money or fame (though I’d never say no to either). For me, and so many others, poetry has always been about finding understanding.
“You do not have to be good” — the opening line to Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese” — has found a funny afterlife as a meme, bumper sticker, sarcastic comeback, etc. Other lines like “Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life” and “You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves” have found similar Internet fame. But other than unintentional meme-maker, Mary Oliver was a Pulitzer Prize winner, a neo-Transcendentalist, a lover of nature and solitude, and a lesbian. Oliver fell in love with the photographer Molly Malone Cook, and they lived their lives out together on Cape Cod before Cook’s death in 2005. While she rarely spoke outside of her poetry, preferring her privacy, finding this fact out about Oliver let me into another layer of the world.
“Sentimentality” is considered one of the worst grievances you could lobby against a poet’s work. To be labeled sentimental is to be labeled tawdry, cheap, melodramatic. In my MFA, we were taught to be emotional without being sentimental, to portray deep feelings without being cloying. A (white straight male) professor of mine once sneered as he said you should never put a heart in a poem unless “you’re talking about the literal organ.” It’s no surprise female poets are more likely to be victims of this critique than their male counterparts and certainly no shock that queer female poets don’t even make it to the conversation. Before discovering Mary Oliver, any lesbian or queer female poet I read I had to find myself, except for Emily Dickinson. Of course, going to a Catholic all-girls high school, discussion of Dickinson’s sexuality was never a part of the curriculum. But I was still enamored of her for her dedication to the craft of poetry, the following poem especially:
I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –
Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –
Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –
Many observations of the poem decree it is Dickinson’s ode to poetry, that it is a far better genre than prose to explore one’s imagination and world. It reminds me, though, of another poet’s words: Ocean Vuong, author of Night Sky with Exit Wounds and the novel On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. In an interview with the writer Bryan Washington for A24, Vuong said:
Queerness in a way saved my life…Often we see queerness as a deprivation, but when I look at my life, I saw that queerness demanded an alternative innovation from me, I had to make alternative routes. It made me curious, it made me ask, ‘Is this enough for me?’
When Emily says “I dwell in Possibility – ” I have the same reaction as I do to Vuong. Poetry and queerness both exist as innovations on form. Rather than the expected trajectories, both engage in what it means to play with what you’ve been given. Rather than setting a scene in a block of text, why not break up your words and sentences in stanzas, emphasizing individual sounds and textures? Why not put the lyricism of your words before their meaning, in order to emphasize said meaning? And in turn, why not question the intricacies of gender and sexuality, why not question what makes you feel more in your body as opposed to adhering to a code prescribed upon the body you have?
Is this a “sentimental” thought? Yeah, maybe. How could it not be? And how could you shrink the orbit of one’s emotional landscape to such a simple, ill-meaning word? I have been told to be less sentimental in poems. I have too been told to be “less gay” in public spaces, or private friend groups. I have been the victim of such reductions — but in the literary and queer worlds of my life, I have also found the strength to defy such lessenings. Growing up a woman, without queerness or poetry, I lament how easy it may have been for me to fall into patterns wrought by others. Being a poet drew me to seeing the world in the vigilant, yearning way of poets: I will come to a dead stop on a sidewalk to stare at a snail make her slow journey from one end of the grass to the other, or I will watch the way a stranger’s hand lightly grazes the elbow of someone they are with and may love, and I can’t not write page after page about it.
This is not to say non-poets can’t do these things — but in my life, it’s been poetry that’s opened the world to me. For me, poetry is the thinnest barrier between abstraction and emotion. Queerness, too, has allowed the world to let me in: the unbridled joy of a people who have been shunned by the rest of society is like nothing else. When society has refused you, there is nothing left of society we must adhere to; instead, we can have the world beyond that, birds and trees and rivers and ice cream and kissing and parties and whatever bangs the gong of our hearts so fiercely we think I should write a poem about this.
Although memoir is allegedly the genre of truthtelling, in poetry I find a more honest way to be. Who am I when I am doing nothing else but spilling my own thoughts out, my own observations, and as spare as a few lines on the page, nothing to hide behind, nothing to keep out of sight. That is what queerness is for me, too. I can’t hide behind it, and because of that I may as well go full-throttle through. When “I dwell in possibility,” it is not just about my creative flow; it is about reckoning with the directions I can take my life, even if I have to fight for those directions.
All I can think to end on here are the ending lines of “Wild Geese”:
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
With my poetry and my queerness, when I write, when I kiss my girlfriend, when I read Carl Phillips, when I do poppers at the club, all of these things are me announcing my place in the family of things. Poetry and queerness are the two most central pillars of my life. I cannot exist without either one, and they cannot exist without each other. And I would never ask them to.
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Maybe it’s because I just binged Dickinson, or maybe it’s just the truth evident in your heartfelt words, but this one moved me to tears.
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As another “real” poet who came into it sideways (got the Outlaw Bible of American Poetry during that rebellious post-high-school phase) and ended up doing it all the way to grad school (where I ended up taking workshops from one of the poets in said book) and *also* having fallen into it because it’s shorter, I’m just doing a knowing nod. Without poetry, queerness, or queer poetry (Federico Garcia Lorca, Jack Spicer, and Maggie Nelson in my case), I don’t think I’d still be here. I wouldn’t have seen myself, found myself, or formed myself without it. I wouldn’t be able to see the world, let alone tolerate it.
Everyone Deserves Sports
Julie, the American Girl of 1974, is motivated by a desire to play basketball. Her school doesn’t yet have a girls’ basketball team, but with the recent passage of Title IX banning sex-based discrimination in schools, Julie advocates for herself to join the boys’ team. Reading Julie’s story taught me about Title IX, Billie Jean King’s Battle of the Sexes, and some of the lengths women have had to go to be treated equally in areas as simple as school athletics. Her (fictional) story has stuck with me as I’ve watched the proliferation of women’s professional leagues and bans against transgender athletes alongside navigating my own journey of queer athleticism.
I had a childhood dream that I would be the first woman to play Major League Baseball. This dream was thwarted fairly early; my parents worked on Saturdays, which meant they couldn’t take me to Little League. I’d have to wait until I was older to start playing, and by that point I’d be out of the running for professional play. Despite not playing then, it bothered me that girls and boys were eventually split into softball and baseball. Most other sports split on gendered lines, but the idea that girls had to play an entirely different sport left a sour taste in my mouth, especially as I watched MLB games and had no idea if there even was major league softball.
Around fifth grade, my parents put my brother and me in judo classes. There were far more boys in the dojo than girls, but there was always another girl in the locker room with me. Although I did not yet have an understanding of my gender or sexuality, I was repressed by a sense that I should keep to myself in the locker room; look down and away, face the other wall, change into the corner. No one ever told me to behave this way. All of my embarrassment was coming from myself, and besides the general excuse of modesty, I couldn’t say why I felt so mortified. Practices were not split by gender, but tournaments were, leading me to a number of first place trophies that felt less valuable because only five people were competing for them.
In middle school, I started fencing. There were two stages of getting dressed for fencing. The first — putting shorts, a sports bra, and t-shirt on in the locker room — I did with as much discretion as I had in judo. The second — putting on my fencing socks, pants, and jackets — was done in the small cafeteria room where we had practice. Everyone from the girls and boys teams got dressed together. Unlike the locker room, which still felt shameful and dangerous, this part of changing felt communal. We laughed and talked and asked other people to fence during the upcoming open bouting. Changing at this point in the routine was about getting ready to compete, and my woes about my body were pushed aside.
There was a cute girl on the fencing team. She was in my grade and thought I was cute too. Suddenly, I had my first girlfriend. I slowly came out as bisexual, more by holding her hand and kissing her cheek in public than by making a big declaration. Especially since I had started dating a teammate, the mandate to keep my eyes to myself in all locker room situations seemed to grow. No one ever said anything to me, since I was lucky enough to go to a liberal New York City high school, but I wanted to stop the rumors before they had a chance to begin.
Fencing was a spring sport, which meant I was never able to play school softball, which had the same season. I played a few games with my mom’s work team, but it just wasn’t the same as being with peers. Softball is certainly the more stereotypical baby queer sport, but I had made a commitment and found a community in fencing. So I kept with it.
My first girlfriend and I broke up. My second girlfriend and I broke up. I had my first real boyfriend around tenth grade, at the same time as I started to wonder whether “girl” was really the right word to describe my experience of the world. I was pretty sure I wasn’t a boy, but being a girl didn’t feel right either. I asked my online friends to start calling me a new name and started using new pronouns, which felt closer to right.
Around this time, I learned two things that would upend my childhood perceptions of women in sports. First, I watched A League of Their Own with my mom and was mesmerized by the idea of the All American Girls’ Professional Baseball League. Although still no woman had played in MLB, there had been a women’s professional league — a big one. When Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, and other stars of men’s baseball were off fighting World War II, Philip K. Wrigley founded the AAGPBL to give America some of its national pastime. As in the factory and the home, American women stepped up to fill gaps left by men going to war. The league dissolved in 1954 due to waning interest and the return of MLB play, but the seed of women’s professional sports in America had been planted.
My second revelation was that Billie Jean King was and is a lesbian. The 2017 film Battle of the Sexes depicted King’s relationship with Marilyn Barnett, which eventually led to King being outed in 1981. This was my first proof that queer women had been in professional sports for as long as those professional sports had existed. More proof would come with the 2020 documentary A Secret Love about the relationship between AAGPBL player Terry Donahue and her partner Pat Henschel. Historically, queer women and sports went together.
But what then to do about the question of my gender? Mack Beggs, a trans boy from Texas, was being required to wrestle in the girls’ division, while simultaneously being seen as a danger to the girls due to his testosterone prescription. No one had an answer on where Beggs belonged, and the question of trans athletes’ place in sports was growing every day. There were only two locker rooms at my fencing club: boys and girls. I kept using the girls. I wrote my college admissions essay about being bisexual in theatre and sports and not feeling like I totally fit in anywhere. The admissions department must have liked it, because I got into college. My fencing coach got a banner printed with all of our names and where we were going to school. I hadn’t said anything about my new name. It felt too late and too soon.
College was a natural fresh start. I went by my birth name for only June before emailing my peer advisor to change my name. She and my peer group graciously and easily did so. I was starting college as the person I was becoming: Pallas, they/them.
Although I was a long way from varsity, I wanted to keep fencing in college. I went to one or two practices of the club team, but my attention and interest fizzled. I was studying theatre and wanted to focus my energy on student productions rather than fencing practice. Perhaps more importantly, fencing felt like it belonged to a very straight and gender-segregated part of my life. Although I had loved being on the team while I had fenced, I was not sure I could keep going with my new self-knowledge. I turned instead to theater, to the school newspaper, and to impromptu trans gatherings held at peers’ apartments. We sat on hardwood floors, as hardly anyone had enough seating for all of us, and celebrated the ways our university was making strides for trans inclusion. My roommate and I lived in open-gender housing our sophomore year. Things were getting better, in small ways.
The COVID-19 pandemic started, I graduated college, and I moved home to NYC. I missed athletics. In doing half-hearted Googling, I found a queer softball league. I went to a recruitment day and was added to a brand new team. I was finally playing the sport I’d loved my whole life. I was by no means a softball prodigy, but in my new league I could be with other trans people and queer women and enjoy a good game of my favorite sport.
After a long simmer, the national question of trans people in sports was boiling over. Caster Semenya, a cis woman who had already undergone sex testing, would be required by the IAAF to take medication to lower her testosterone levels. In her case before the Court of Arbitration for Sport, the court ruled that discriminatory rules were necessary to preserve women’s athletics. The case proceeded to the European Court of Human Rights, which ruled that Semenya’s human rights had been violated, but World Athletics’ regulations remained in place.
Riley Gaines and Lia Thomas were freshmen in college at the same time as I was, but I had graduated a year early. During their senior year, Thomas, an openly trans woman, tied with Gaines for fifth place. This tie enraged Gaines to the point of becoming an advocate against the inclusion of trans women in women’s sports. The panic spread from college to high school, from swimming to chess. While some outlets, such as PinkNews pointed out that believing trans women have a biological advantage at chess is equivalent to believing that cis women are dumb, the transphobic rhetoric pushing removal of trans women from women’s sports continues on high octane. Trump, with the support of Riley Gaines, has issued an Executive Order threatening to revoke federal funding for any educational institution that allows trans girls and women to play on the teams that match their gender identities, misusing Title IX to push this agenda.
Different governing bodies have set forth various rules about trans athletes. The LPGA requires trans women competitors to have transitioned before beginning puberty; the NCAA has cowed to the Trump Administration and allows only people assigned female at birth to compete in women’s sports. Notably, most of the outrage has been around trans women; besides Mack Beggs, few trans men athletes have made the news, and policies about trans people in sports utilize the language of protecting women’s spaces. This erasure is ultimately just as transphobic, as the underlying assertion is that trans people cannot escape their assigned gender.
I don’t pretend to know what the perfect solution to integrating trans people into gendered sports is. A number of trans thinkers I follow have proposed different ideas, and the personal and individual nature of transition makes one general solution unlikely. I do know that we cannot pretend trans people have not been athletes, and we cannot deny trans people access to this important sphere of life due to bigotry. Athletics are one of the most profitable ventures in America. But they are also a core part of the human experience. Athletics have always reflected the people we want to be. Jackie Robinson and Larry Doby integrated baseball as the whole country grappled with post World War II civil rights questions. Billie Jean King and golfer Babe Zaharias showed the world that women can play with the men. Hopefully, we will one day celebrate Mack Beggs and Lia Thomas in the same way.
I look more masc than I ever have. I have a barbershop haircut and wear suits to fancy events. I should probably just throw out all the makeup I bought in college that I haven’t worn since. As much as I would like to live in my bubble of queer sports in NYC, that is not much safer. Last year’s Lezvolley, a Fire Island volleyball tournament, was cancelled on the day of competition due to mishandling of a trans competitor. The Brooklyn Tennis League was criticized for kicking out a trans woman after a cis opponent complained about losing to her. The panic about trans athletes, a mere screen over a panic about trans inclusion in daily life, has spread from professional athletics to casual play.
As long as trans people continue to play sports and transphobes continue to oppose that, this conversation will continue. I am hopeful that leagues like my own, which is actively discussing the most inclusive language for all players, can lead the way in trans inclusion. I’m happy to have the community I’ve built through sports, and I hope young people can experience the euphoria of sports regardless of their gender.
‘Poker Face’ Season 2 Knows the Only Thing Better Than Cynthia Erivo Is Five Cynthia Erivos
Poker Face is back for a second season of Natasha Lyonne’s Charlie calling bullshit on the lies around her as she falls into and out of quaint local murder stories and meets quirky characters played by brilliant character actors at every turn. Season one began with Charlie on the run from one mob boss and ended with her on the run from another. Season two picks up with her still attempting to evade hitmen sent by Beatrix Hasp (Rhea Perlman), who are hot on her heels, so she’s once again never in one place for long. But before we even get to checking in on ol’ Charlie in the season premiere, we of course follow the show’s formula and begin with a murder and a slate of fresh of characters. In the case of the premiere, most of those new characters are played by Cynthia Erivo. Yes, the one and only Erivo plays not one but five characters in the Poker Face season two premiere, and she nails every frame.
Erivo plays a set of quadruplets (who discover they’re quintuplets, but I promise that isn’t a major spoiler) who grew up under the oppressive thumb of their mother Norma (legend Jasmine Guy) as child actors on a camp crime series called Kid Cop that looks like it was cooked up in the 30 Rock laboratory. The sisters are all distinct from one another but most share some level of insufferability: one’s a pretentious DJ, one’s a professor with a faux French accent, one’s an off-the-grid mixed media artist, and one’s a try-hard and bloodthirsty — in service of being money-hungry — ham, earning her the not-so-affectionate pet name Hamber. The fifth is Delia, perhaps the most normal of the sisters and Charlie’s entry point into their family’s web of murder and deception. Charlie meets Delia working at an apple orchard (this is after Charlie has fled part-time work as a parking lot attendant and a mummy at a haunted hayride due to Hasp’s goons showing up), and the two instantly bond when Delia lies to protect her.
I won’t spoil the specifics of the premiere’s murder or how Charlie eventually solves it, but the fuel keeping the pacing and story burning at every twist and turn is absolutely Erivo, who doesn’t just pull off playing five characters but makes it seem somehow effortless and like magic all at once. At some points, she plays a sister pretending to be another sister, achieving Tatiana Maslany levels of layered, detailed performances. It’s a fun gimmick of course, but it works on a deeper level, too, because Erivo’s emotionality, especially when it comes to the role of Delia, is so grounded and lived-in. She brings these characters to life quickly and memorably. That’s the fun of Poker Face — often the best characters are the ones we only meet once.
All the strengths of the mystery-comedy’s first season are on display in these first three episodes of season two, all of which dropped on Peacock today. As with all Rian Johnson, you can expect style and verve, retro aesthetics woven into the modern setting. Natasha Lyonne remains compelling as Charlie, but it’s always the characters who surround her that really determine the success of individual episodes, and these three deliver, Giancarlo Esposito playing a strange and myopic funeral director obsessed with death in episode two, Katie Holmes making a rare and affecting television appearance as his forlorn wife, and John Mulaney playing a milk-guzzling FBI agent in episode three, which also brings back Rhea Perlman for a delightful performance and shifts the narrative for the rest of the season in a major way.
Episode two is a testament to Lyonne’s strengths beyond Charlie; she co-wrote and directed the episode, which contains a lot of her signatures, including niche film references, killer needledrops, and a reverence but also self-aware humor for the movie-making business. It’s also the most emotional episode of this batch, Holmes in particular bringing depth to her tragic character. Still, it’s the season premiere that really stands out, in large part due to Erivo.
While more explicitly queer storytelling is to come, I promise, it’s not difficult to read queerness into these first few episodes, and honestly, I almost think of the universe of Poker Face as being somewhat queernormative but in an interesting way rather than a way that downplays or ignores queerness altogether. It’s easy to read Delia as queer, what with her flannel and beanie and mommy issues and immediate intimacy with Charlie — who is not queer herself as far as we know, but who much like her portrayer Lyonne could easily be mistaken as such and seems to attract the gays. And to be honest, I could conceive of any of the sisters being queer; perhaps Erivo just brings that energy to most of her roles. Sherry Cola, also bisexual, plays Paige, a tiny role in episode two who works in set dec for the in-episode film shooting at the funeral director’s home. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know a single straight person who works in set dec. I’m claiming Paige as one of ours.
The rest of the season promises a string of more queer actors, as well as one super gay episode, but I do love the casual nature of Poker Face‘s queerness, how so many of these tertiary and quaternary characters can easily be read as gay. There’s a real-world quality to it, and Poker Face is always at its best when working reality into its surreal, silly, stylized world.
The first three episodes of Poker Face season two are now streaming on Peacock, and subsequent episodes will release weekly.
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This is so cool. I’ve been waiting for like 2 years for this to come back on AND NOW there’s an episode with Cynthia Erivo?!?!?! This is better than Christmas!
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We’re late to the party but the wife and I just started Poker Face this week (along with Long Bright River), and dude….we are LOVING both of them, but Poker Face totally has this Tarantino vibe. It’s awesome. I love the way they tell the story and how it’s filmed. Five Cynthia Erivo’s…man I can’t wait. Lol.
Kristie Mewis and Sam Kerr Had Their Baby, Are Officially Soccer Moms!
In November, Chelsea striker and Australian national team captain Sam Kerr and USWNT midfielder Kristie Mewis announced they were expecting a baby in 2025, and great news, now that baby is here! The two posted an adorable selfie on Instagram announcing their baby boy Jagger Mewis-Kerr, the caption reading: “Our little man is here.”
Kerr and Mewis are among some of the many pro soccer players who have been in an open queer relationship for a while. They made their relationship public during the 2021 Tokyo Olympics and got engaged in 2023. There haven’t really been any updates about a wedding since, but who cares! Let people do their own thing!
Kerr has been sidelined by a ruptured ACL injury that has kept her off the pitch for 15 months. She was included on Chelsea’s Champions League roster, but she never made it into a game before Chelsea was bested by Barcelona in the semi-finals last weekend. Hopefully, she’ll be back in the game soon!
But for now, she’s busy in new parent bliss alongside Mewis, who gave birth to their son. As we reported at the time of their pregnancy announcement, parental protections pertaining to leave and job security for pregnant players as well as new parents within soccer governing bodies have a lot of room for improvement, though some strides have been made in recent years.
The Football Association and Professional Footballers’ Association introduced a new parental policy in 2022 that guarantees players 100% of their weekly wage for the first 14 weeks of leave, regardless of how long they’ve been at their respective club. Chelsea has been at the forefront of better rules and support for pregnant players, including even hiring a pelvic floor specialist to work with returning players. Mewis currently plays for West Ham United, and her contract is good until June 2025. Currently, there are no regulations in place that require clubs to extend contracts upon pregnancy announcements. In June 2024, a new FIFA rule mandated that if a player’s contract is terminated directly due to pregnancy, the club can face the penalty of fines and a year-long ban from the transfer market. But when Mewis’ contract expires next month, the club is not obligated by any existing rules to renew it, so her window of protection under those new FIFA rules has closed.
Kerr’s current contract with Chelsea is good until summer 2026, and as the non-gestational parent, she’s guaranteed eight weeks of paid absence to be taken within six months of the baby’s birth. But it’s unclear to me how her current injury leave might impact that right to parental leave.
Maybe not everyone finds this deep dive on parental rules and regulations within the world of women’s soccer, but I certainly do!!!! So many sports leagues and governing bodies are still struggling to create genuine gender parity and support pregnant players, who shouldn’t have to choose between their careers and starting families. So many of these protections were put into place so recently, and hopefully FIFA and other regulatory governing bodies continue to implement more progressive policies that actually support and protect players.
Queer Love Knows No Borders but Tell That to the U.S. Government
I got off a seven hour FaceTime call in May of 2021 with a plan. My crush and I had been doing these weekly calls for two months now, and there was no denying it: we had a classic case of long-distance lesbian longing. We had to meet in-person. It was time to discover if these feelings would be as strong outside a screen. So I googled flights from Los Angeles to Toronto, ready to spend what I needed. But there were no flights available. The border was closed.
As an entitled American citizen, I hadn’t even considered that possibility. Sure, we were still in a pandemic, but I was about to get my second vaccine dose.
What do you mean I wasn’t allowed to cross a border?
From the first year of Biden’s presidency to the first year of Trump’s second. From the disaster of a pandemic to the disaster of a demagogue. Here we are again in unprecedented times — spoiler alert: there’s always precedence — and the good news is, eventually, I’d make it to Toronto and my long-distance longing would turn into a long-distance relationship.
But four years of going back and forth between the U.S. and Canada — now Brooklyn and Toronto — has started to feel more fraught. Trump’s obsession with trans people is surpassed by his obsession with the border. Is it just a matter of time before the border returns to pandemic restrictions? Or where I’m not allowed to leave or re-enter due to the hard-earned F on my passport?
As a white trans person with American citizenship, I’ve questioned whether these worries are founded. After all, the cruelty of the U.S. border and its enforcement was not invented by Trump. He’s putting kids in cages was a liberal rallying cry during Trump’s first term that fizzled when the he became Biden. Obama deported more than three million people — and was cruelly dismissive of critique — so is this really an issue of changed policy or just changed rhetoric? Or is it both? Have things always been bad but now they’re getting worse?
“After the debate last year, I was like I should get a gun, and then I was like, no, maybe I should leave the country,” one trans American citizen, who has asked to remain anonymous, tells me. “So I started exploring it and after Trump was shot at, I was like oh I need to get out of here this is going to get bad.” She began making plans to move to Europe. But by the time she left in January, she was three months into a new relationship. “I last saw him in March and I’m going to see him again in a couple weeks. But he’s coming to me. I’m not going back to the United States.”
“I have an F on my passport — I got it renewed last year — and I’m terrified that if I were to try to re-enter the United States they could just be like this passport is invalid. You’re just an undocumented person showing up at our border.”
She wasn’t the only person I spoke with who is no longer living in the States. Shireen, who is not an American citizen and had previously lived in Boston on a work visa, returned to Europe after failing to win the visa lottery only to win it this year and turn it down.
“My partner is currently over there, but if I try to envision a future for us in the U.S. in the shorter term it feels a little scary,” Shireen says. “My international student friends or young professionals in the U.S. have stopped traveling domestically at all because they are just afraid of what they’re going to run into at the airports. I have some friends who have posted things on social media about Palestine and now they’re in mortal fear of being stopped by ICE.”
She and her partner had previously done long distance between Boston and Atlanta, but that amount of domestic travel now feels untenable. And securing work in the same city as her partner has become even more challenging due to funding cuts from the Trump administration within her industry of aerospace engineering. “As a queer couple, it just doesn’t feel like a very stable environment to be in,” she says.
However, Shireen still plans to visit her partner in the U.S. She suspects far less scrutiny as someone entering the country on a tourist visa with a set two-week trip. And, in the long term, they’re trying to figure out a way for her partner to join her in Europe. “In both ways it’s difficult,” she says. “Because without European citizenship it’s hard for her, and the other way around it’s hard for me.”
Meanwhile, some people don’t want to leave. “I’m filing for my citizenship now,” an anonymous Canadian citizen tells me. “I don’t want to leave and never be able to come back because I built my community and life out here.”
They’ve been going back and forth with their partner, who is also Canadian. But now they’re staying put. “Because my partner is a white dude, we feel like he has a lot more freedom of movement,” they say. “He’ll probably be gone for a month or two and then come back here.”
“We’ve had to have these really difficult conversations about our absolute red lines,” they continue. “Like if this happens, fuck all my stuff, we’re packing a bag and going to Toronto.” As a non-white, visibly queer person with a green card but no citizenship, reports of people being sent to detention facilities in El Salvador have felt close. But for the time being, they’re doubling down, committing to their citizenship application, and relying on their partner’s privilege.
This was something I heard a lot — people in relationships making risk assessments based on the race, citizenship status, and gender identities involved. “My partner presents as a white cis woman and she’s Canadian so I don’t necessarily think she is who is being targeted at the border,” a trans American citizen named Jaclyn tells me. “But I think the idea of me traveling there has felt a little more charged.”
Jaclyn says they’ve been talking less about the dangers of a visit and more about a scenario where leaving the U.S. becomes a necessity. “I am really scared,” she says. “I know that’s the intention, but I don’t think it’s an empty intention. I think sometimes it can be dismissed as, oh they want you to be scared, and that implies nothing is actually going to happen. But, no, they want you to be scared, because they’re doing something scary.”
Jaclyn notes that the current administration’s desires to criminalize transness and to deport criminals are connected. This becomes especially harrowing when we consider how queer people, especially trans people, have long been treated by the U.S. in immigration prisons.
Jaclyn also has a partner in Los Angeles where she lives and they’ve made it clear that were they to leave they’d leave together — something she says would be expected by her partner in Canada. “I think a lot of a relationship, especially now, is taking turns in who’s the one who’s afraid and who’s the one who’s strong,” she says. “And in some ways being poly is great because there are more people to be strong and in some ways it’s hard because there are more people to be afraid.”
Most of the people I spoke to had purposefully avoided crossing the U.S. border since Trump took office. But Jack returned from their most recent visit to their girlfriend in Dublin under the new administration. “Normally, they’d just ask me what I was doing in Ireland and if I have anything to declare, and then my American passport whisks me through,” they say. But this time the agent grilled them about their outfit — a pink trucker hat and blue and white Letterman jacket with magenta skulls and butterflies, which Jack admitted probably made them seem like an AI generated trans person. “I eventually told him I bought everything at a Bushwick craft fair — never thought I’d admit that to a federal agent — and he let me go on my way.”
It’s difficult to know when heightened scrutiny is a result of the Trump administration and when it’s due to an overzealous agent. As someone who has crossed the U.S./Canada border a lot over the last four years, I’ve experienced a wide range of responses to my transness, from Cringe Ally to Power-Hungry Hardass. It’s inevitable to latch onto anecdotes — whether that’s our own experiences or individuals whose detention or deportation makes the news — but how many other horrors are hidden within statistics?
“I think the reason people from Canada and Europe and Australia are reporting these terrible incidents — which are not okay, detaining people over night is insane — but I feel like it’s getting a lot more traction because it’s never really happened to people from those places before,” Anna, whose partner lives in Mexico says. “At least not in the public eye.”
While she acknowledges she knows two people who just came in from Mexico without a problem, Anna is still scared because the stakes are so high. “We’re very in love and been planning on marriage,” she says. “We’ve been together for about three years and we were planning on marrying sometime in the next two years. But because of all this, we’re expediting it.”
She’s planning on visiting her partner in Mexico and then her partner is coming to the U.S. in July. This border crossing is the source of most of her anxieties. “We’re going to ask my lawyer if getting married in Mexico first is a good idea, because we really don’t know what would look better,” she says. “It’s this game of figuring out what would look shady and what wouldn’t even though everything is legitimate anyway!”
There’s an added unpredictability to this current moment, but Anna’s fears remind her of another time a year into her and her partner’s relationship. Anna’s sister was getting married and Anna was living in Mexico at the time with her partner. She really wanted them to be able to travel with her to the States. “I heard how much of a horrorshow it was to get a visa for the U.S. from Mexico,” she says. “They make it so hard.”
“You just don’t know. There are so many ifs and buts of oh you’re missing this one thing or if they suspect you don’t have enough ties to the country, they just won’t give it to you. And sometimes it’s very arbitrary. They’re just like, no. I felt very lucky that they were able to get one. It just sucks because after all of that stress we went through two years ago, it’s the same thing again now.”
Whether leaving the U.S. or trying to get back, terrified or resigned, everyone I spoke to says they feel less at ease to travel. It’s fun to make jokes about lesbians U-Hauling and queer people falling in love through phone screens, but the truth is we often find friendship, community, and romance from afar out of necessity. Even in the most progressive city, we’re still a minority, and it’s even more necessary for people in small towns. Queer people have always found each other and we always will. But tighter borders and increased horror from ICE make this more difficult.
“A philosophy I’ve tried to adopt is I’m just trying to find as much joy as I can every day,” the U.S. citizen who moved to Europe tells me. “I’m going to hold onto what I can because who knows what could happen next month, next year. It’s all ephemeral. That’s the story of queer life and queer joy. Trying to find as much as you can, but you can’t bank on the future in any meaningful or tangible way.”
With that in mind, I’m grateful to be with my partner right now in Toronto. I’m grateful, because we’re together and because I fear a time in the near future when we’re kept apart by a closed border. But I’m not ready to give up on the U.S. as some friends and family have suggested I should.
Jack echoes my feelings, saying, “If and when tyranny comes knocking at home, the vast majority of my friends and neighbors do not have the resources (or a beautiful Irish girlfriend) to secure their escape. So I’m kind of caught between the twin impulses of get me the hell out of here and actually, fuck you.”
“I’ll always be invested in fighting for a less fucked up America. What that looks like or from where is anyone’s guess at this point.”
4 Comments
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During the 80s and 90s, the normal process when travelling to the US from Europe: going to the US embassy for a 1-2h interview, guarded by men with machine guns and German shepard dogs, answering lots of questions about HIV status and sexual orientation and practise. HIV positive people were not allowed to travel into the US, and gay men were specifically targeted as well, but everyone was profiled. You could lie, but you had to sign something that said they would get you into prison if they found out you lied.
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Re. Is it the government or is it just an over zealous official?
The dictator government creates over zealous behaviour. It is a well known historical fact that in dictatorships there is anticipatory obedience, i.e. the subjects go much further much earlier than the law expects them to.
This in turn creates a reinforcement loop where the dictator government actually follows the behaviour of the subjects by writing these things into the law long after they are practised on the ground.
And these new laws then make the subjects even more over zealous, etc.
For example, in Nazi Germany, most small towns prohibited Jews from using their public swimming pools years before this was written into German law.
How To Make Sending Nudes Your Love Language
I adore sending nudes. I adore love languages too, but like Riese, I think they’re best when broken up into personalized nuggets. For those of us subscribed to it, I’m sure we all get that the concept is helpful but a little broad. There’s room for personalization.
A critical part of my personalized love language is sending nudes. It means more to me than most. Yes, there’s sharing an intimate part of myself for someone’s enjoyment — a modern take on WWII-era lovers mailing over a photograph. There’s knowing that I’m keeping it interesting and fiery with people who are into me. There’s the self-esteem boost. All of it, sure. I’m also an online sex worker. This extra dimension changes up a lot. When I send nudes to someone for free, you bet your ass they’re high quality. Downright marketable quality. More literally than most, my sending nudes is giving my labor and skills freely to cool people.
My dual-citizenship as a rampant slut who loves sending nudes and a sex worker deeply concerned with safety makes me oddly well-positioned to talk about it. Here are some crucial hows and ifs of sending nudes as one of your love languages.
Assert your reasons and boundaries
Before you start airdropping nudes beyond a trusted circle, have a sit and think about why you want to send more nudes. The prerequisite spirit of every love language is that you enjoy doing it and it’s intended to benefit someone else. Love languages should be selfless or reciprocal expressions.
Sending nudes can become a vehicle for love and affection, but we’re not running a pornographic NGO. Affirmation and flattery are sensible reasons, but there’s a line between a gentle ego boost and leaning on this as your new source of Self Esteem™. If you want to make it a love language, your hot amateur content should be sent with love, not expectation.
Boundary setting is critical. Clear sexual boundaries are clear to everyone in the engagement. Their value is doubled if the nature of an act (sending nudes) is sexual, but the intention is platonic or uncertain. I’ve written about making a protocol for exactly this. Having a very sober think-over about where the goods end up and how you’d like people to treat it establishes two important things. Firstly, it helps you determine if this is what you really want when urgent horniness isn’t tugging at your sensibilities. Secondly, it’s practice for setting boundaries. Not everyone is good at it, but you’ll need to improve to start doing this.
Mitigate the risks
Nothing on the internet gets deleted. However, a private connection between devices is much better isolated than posting yourself on Bluesky. The other ‘however’ is that once files reach someone else’s device, the only things protecting your data are a social contract and respect for the law. Data breaches happen. Devices get stolen. People violate trust. If you’re lucky, your jurisdiction has applicable revenge porn or privacy laws, but I doubt anyone reading this trusts the justice system to handle this with the grace it deserves. Just assume the law isn’t on your side.
Data security
Data security is the ‘easy’ part. The core rules of data security are:
- All security is a conflict between safety and convenience.
- All security requires compromises. Making an informed decision to compromise and seeing it fail later is not a personal failure.
- Data spread across more devices is easier to recover… and breach.
- Ensure that there are always two independent security measures between adversaries and sensitive data.
- Your passwords will be leaked during mass attacks. Two-factor authentication (2FA) will save you from worse damage.
- If you’re not ready to lose control of some sensitive data, you’re not ready to possess it.
With those pointers in mind, here are some ways you can implement better data security — or your nudes and other stuff.
- Have two-factor authentication on anything that can be used against you. That means anything containing nudes or a way to wreck your credit rating. Same vibe.
- One up-to-date cloud backup is adequate. It’s the best mix of protection and convenience.
- Always put two barriers between you and your nudes. A drawn unlock pattern + a pin-locked photo app. Fingerprint login + a 2FA-secured cloud storage app. Facial recognition + a password manager.
- Keep your password recovery measures up to date.
- NO leaving your naughties lying around on USBs or portable hard drives.
Like I said, data security is the easy part. The part that requires entrusting yourself to another person? That’s harder. That doesn’t fit into bulleted lists.
Social safety
In my experience, the social contract is all about making an informed decision to send and being gentle on yourself when it’s done. Before sending this precious, private content, make an informed decision about the recipient. Do they have responsibility and integrity? Can you entrust them with the little things before this bigger thing? Practice making this decision and learn to trust yourself.
Then hit Send.
Once it leaves the nest, feel free to grieve a little. Grieve for the inherent shortcomings of data security and people. Especially the latter. Accept that the more nudes you send, the greater the chance that some will get misplaced or misused. Realize that this is true for any act of love. Anytime we give a part of ourselves away in confidence, someone can fail or abuse our trust. It’s better to grieve ahead of time than panic in the middle of an incident.
Once you’ve sat with those feelings, forgive yourself preemptively for the off-chance it does go wrong. You created something precious and gave it to someone with loving intentions. You’ve done nothing wrong. It won’t be your fault if a mass data breach downloads and copies your files into an undisclosed server. It won’t be your fault if the recipient violates the boundaries you set. It won’t be your fault if a phone gets stolen or that saucy text goes to the wrong group chat. Personalized acts of love should always travel both ways, and you deserve to feel good about what you’re doing.
Your expressions of love demand no justification. The failures of others are not your responsibility.
Know when to stop
Again, something that applies to any show of affection for others. You are putting in the effort, and it’s your right to stop when things feel ‘off’. A sudden disconnect between your self-esteem and sexting? Did someone hurt you? It’s starting to feel like a chore? Give yourself the time and space to see the next step.
I stopped sex work the first time because my eating disorder was torpedoing my self-esteem. I needed over five years before I was ready to use the selfie camera. If this isn’t for you, stopping is always the right call. The day you chose to stop was the perfect day for it. The timespan you needed to feel ready again was exactly right. The last set of photos you took was exactly what you needed at that moment.
Send nudes (love)
I’ve specifically omitted information about taking nude photos because the wider internet is replete with that knowledge. The mindset behind this special act is more important to me. ‘Cause I’m a nerd.
I think I’ve explained what I think about when I show my body to people. It’s not just a photo. It never was. It’s a rich expression of trust. It’s allowing others to access me in a way that is personalized and titillating. I’m sharing the fruits of labor that I normally charge for. It’s not a conventional love language like baking or listening, but we’re all gays here. We of all people know that love shouldn’t be boxed into polite categories. There’s just no fun in that.
Out the Movies: I Tried To Watch Every Lesbian Movie Ever
Out the Movies is a bi-weekly newsletter about queer film for AF+ subscribers written by Drew Burnett Gregory. This week’s topic: the recently launched Autostraddle Encyclopedia of Lesbian Cinema.
I used to think I could watch every lesbian movie ever made. Now I know that isn’t possible.
Since making my way through every Best Picture winner and various director filmographies as a child, my cinephilia has been paired with a Capricon completionism. It was about the films first and foremost, but the lists, the projects, the gargantuan goals allowed me to make sense of the big world of cinema I wanted to understand. I still find this useful. Whether watching every film with one actor or going through the films referenced in a book, viewing projects are a tool for exploration, an excuse to push myself beyond mere whims.
Watching every lesbian movie started as a project of identity before it became my job. When I transitioned at age 23, I felt behind in almost every area of lesbian culture. Every area except cinema. While I hadn’t seen popular-in-community fare like D.E.B.S. or Imagine Me and You, my love of arthouse cinema had led me to films like Water Lilies, Carol, The Watermelon Woman, Summertime, All About My Mother, Blue is the Warmest Color, The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant, and, of course, Mulholland Drive. Expanding upon this head start, I found comfort and self-knowledge through further exploration.
By the time I’d been out for two years and was staffed at Autostraddle, I’d seen more movies about cis lesbians than any of the cis lesbians I was meeting. In retrospect, maybe that’s why the first night I met Riese in-person, I asked if I could re-do Autostraddle’s 100 Best Lesbian Movies. At the time, I said it was just because I couldn’t rest with The Watermelon Woman at number 30 and Freeheld in the top 10. (To be fair, an understandable excuse.)
Six months later I had a project budget, and I spent six more months enhancing my expertise. There wouldn’t be a film on this new list that I hadn’t seen. And there would be no filler — every film on the list would be good if not great.
I watched everything I still hadn’t seen on the streamers. I spent hours in the LGBTQ+ sections of LA’s surviving video stores looking for lost gems. I scrolled through the girls-kissing and lesbian tags on IMDb. All the while, 2019 and 2020 brought more new queer releases than ever.
That revamped list has gone through multiple renditions since the initial publication of my work in 2020. Most recently, we launched The Autostraddle Encyclopedia of Lesbian Cinema, a separate, sortable website that is an expansion of an earlier attempt at this kind of resource. Now instead of updating annually, I can update as I watch. According to my personal lesbian+ list on Letterboxd, I’ve seen 690 lesbian films. The encyclopedia currently has 388. I still have entries to add, although I’m not sure some of the movies on my personal list deserve a spot in the encyclopedia — even if Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story did introduce me to the concept of bisexuality.
While I may leave off 2000s comedies where two women briefly kiss, the truth is this 6+ year project has expanded my definition of a lesbian movie. Every day brings online discourse about who can or cannot identify as a lesbian, but the historical truth is it’s an expansive category that is fluid based on time period, location, and the individual. Our cinema is this way too.
For every obscure yet undeniable lesbian film like Ann Hui’s All About Love or Patrícia Vidal Delgado’s La Leyenda Negra, there are worthy films that flirt around this definition. From obvious works of subtext adapted from gay novels like The Color Purple and Fried Green Tomatoes to films that reveal a main character’s queerness as a sort of twist like The Rich Man’s Wife and X, Y, and Zee to films too complex in their approach to gender and sexuality to classify like Yentl or Gigli. (Yes, Gigli.) All of these films deserve their place in the encyclopedia.
There are lesbian movies on Tubi I’ve yet to watch, films where two women almost kiss on the poster and are certain to (poorly) act out the usual tropes. There’s a place for these films — you’ll find plenty of them in the encyclopedia too — but they’re rarely the films I find most exciting, as a cinephile or as a queer person.
The more we get films like Love Lies Bleeding, The Wedding Banquet, and Nimona in the mainstream, the less concerned we have to be with lesbian cinema as representation. There are still many lesbian and queer women experiences left to show, but there are also more ways to express lesbianism and queerness on-screen as well. Not every lesbian movie is a love story — instead it might be a documentary about technology and the co-opting of Black identity told through a queer lens.
My project of watching every lesbian movie ever began as a way of belonging within my new identity, but now I have as expansive a view of myself as our cinema. There’s nothing to prove because each of our experiences of lesbianism and queerness is unique to us. Now I just want to watch as many lesbian movies as I can so I can share this art with all of you. No matter what kind of lesbian movie you’re seeking, you can find it in The Autostraddle Encyclopedia of Lesbian Cinema. And, if you can’t, I’ll do my part to help you find it soon.
Catherine McCafferty Thinks You Should Start Flirting and Stop Apologizing
As a longtime fan of improv comedy, being gay, and hot redheads, it was a matter of time before I became a huge fan of Catherine McCafferty. When I need a relaxing night in, I like to kick back with a hard cider and put on either a show from Dropout or a Smosh YouTube video. I’m quite smitten in particular with Vic Michaelis and Angela Giarratana, both of whom are featured on McCafferty’s show Pretty Gay, a talk show in the vein of Amelia Dimoldenberg’s Chicken Shop Date, in that it features hot people flirting with each other.
Voyeuristic? Perhaps.
Below, find my conversation (edited and condensed for clarity and length) with Catherine about how Pretty Gay came to be, what it’s like to flirt with comedians, and how to stop apologizing so much.
Gabrielle Grace Hogan: Tell me more about your background. Where are you from, how did you get started in comedy?
Catherine McCafferty: I have always been interested in performing ever since I was very young. I would be in the school plays. My mom had a video camera, and I always wanted it to be on me. I really focused on school and being a perfect student, which was not a requirement for my family. I just decided that that was going to be my personality. I actually ended up dropping out of high school to go to college a year early. But I ended up at a school that was primarily male and sports-dominated. And it reflected back to me how important the arts were, because I felt like I was just drowning in a world that I didn’t understand. And so then, when I transferred schools, I didn’t study theater. All the theater students thought that I was a theater major, but I was a biology major — but I always knew I wanted to pursue the arts.
I just wasn’t sure what the avenue was going to be, and then I got cast right out of college in a show for Hell In A Handbag Productions, a drag theater company in Chicago. They were doing a production of The Birds, and I got cast to be Tippi Hedren, aka Melanie Daniels. So I was on stage the whole time, and I was so in love with the entire process of theater and performing and being on stage. Once I got a taste of that in the professional world, I was like, “Okay, well, it’s gonna be this forever.”
I also loved writing. So one of my friends was like, “you should try standup.” And then I went to an open mic, and I was like, “oh, okay, well, I’m mentally ill because I love this.” I’ve always been somebody who goes in 100%. And so for the past 10 years, it’s been me just throwing a lot of stuff at the wall and running at 120 miles per hour. So it’s been a roller coaster, and I feel like, you know, we’re all waiting for a break or whatever, and it doesn’t necessarily ever look like you think it’s going to when you’re a little kid. And it’s been so magical to see people respond to Pretty Gay and have that be the thing.
That sounds so exciting. A drag production of The Birds is the craziest thing to be the first break into the business. I bet that feels a bit like being spoiled. Like, “Oh, of course it’s always going to feel this cool and queer and exciting.”
Yeah, yeah! And then it wasn’t for a really long time. I moved out here to Los Angeles, I lived in a hostel, I had 100 different jobs. I had an air mattress that my roommate stepped on and broke, and so then it kept deflating during the night. There’s so many bumps along the way where you’re just like, what am I doing.
And then I was trying to model, and it’s a wonder how I’m still alive. The journey definitely wasn’t linear, but I don’t think it ever is.
In another interview you did for On the Mic, you talked about Mike Birbiglia and Tig Notaro being huge influences on your standup. You talked about how you really admired that they made their shows storytelling events — how they start with a central story, and then go off on tangents, but always come back to tie it together at the end. You mentioned that being your goal for your standup as well — could you talk more about that? Obviously Pretty Gay is not standup, but that is your other passion. Can you talk about why standup, and this particular type of standup, is so appealing for you as a performer?
Well, I love standup, and it does actually really relate to Pretty Gay, because it’s about taking back performing for the performer, you know? I feel like there’s so many gatekeepers in trying to be a performer. You feel like you’re asking permission all the time, like, “oh, I want to audition. Can I please do this?” I really felt like standup gave me more autonomy in my art. You just can go, you can do an open mic, you can start a show, which is what I did when I moved out here. You can just start a standup show, and then you can meet other people who are grinding in a similar way that you are, which I don’t think you do in acting as much. There’s less of a community in acting, unless you’re in a class or something like that.
The same with Pretty Gay, we were looking at, like, “Okay, well, Catherine is a performer, and she’s trying to get recognition for all these different things that she does. How can we do that?” And my friends Sam Reich and Elaine Carroll are big Internet people, and they believe the Internet puts the power back into the creator’s hands. So they really wanted to help me do that.
And then the Mike Birbiglia of it all is that I grew up listening to NPR. So Mike and Tig Notaro were on NPR a lot. And I was like, “wow, the way that these people do comedy and tell stories is just so fascinating.”
I’m glad that you mentioned Sam and Elaine, because I found Pretty Gay through being a huge Dropout fan, and being a huge Smosh fan. I think the way I found you specifically was your episode with Vic Michaelis, because I’m obsessed with Vic (because every gay person on the internet is obsessed with Vic). And I was like, “Oh, what’s this? What’s going on?” And I fell hard for all of it. I know you’re friends with Sam and Elaine, and they’re also the producers of your show. Knowing that, how did Pretty Gay happen? How did that project develop initially?
So I had moved back to Los Angeles on a trial run, to see if I wanted to fully move back from NYC, and I had known Sam and Elaine for five years by that point. They’re two of my dearest friends. And Sam is a big fan of the internet. He’s really interested in how it gives the power back to the creatives. And he helped Elaine build her social presence through doing sketches and characters. And he was like, “we want to help you build your social presence in a similar way.” So we had quite a few brainstorms to be like, “okay, so what does Catherine do?”
I don’t do a lot of characters. I don’t come from the sketch comedy world. I can certainly write a sketch, and I find them to be very fun. It’s just not what I’ve been working towards for years and years and years. So it was tough for me, because I was like, “Well, I felt like I knew how to be like, pretty on the internet, and I knew how to be funny in person.” And I was single, and it had been the first time that I was dating around again, and we were just throwing out all these different ideas. And we were like, well, what if it was kind of like a dating show, like a dating podcast?
Sam, coming from the Dropout universe, was like, “you know, I really like the model of an interview-based segment show. It’s what works for Dropout, and I think it would work for you if you want to just do an experiment, we could build a set.” And I was like, “Okay, sure. Like, let’s build it. Let’s have it be like a gay bar.” There’s not a lot of lesbian bars, but I really like the aesthetic of Honey’s at Star Love — they have a lot of teal and tile, and it just felt cool when I moved back here and went dancing there.
The first season had six episodes. We had no idea what we were doing. Chloe Badner, they’re a fantastic set designer, and they built the set on the bottom floor of Sam and Elaine’s house. So we weren’t even in a studio.
Oh, wow. I didn’t even know that.
Season one, we had something like 150 subscribers on Patreon. We had to take a long pause between season one and season two. I had no idea if Sam and Elaine wanted to partner with me again on season two. We threw out all these different ideas with in order to make it less costly. We considered just having me shoot it on a GoPro, in a car. And then they had a little meeting without me, and they were like, “You know what? We want to invest even more money towards this and scale up and see if that is gonna bring subscribers, and see if that is gonna be what catches people’s eye.” Like, let’s make it even prettier and shinier. And then we moved into a studio. Sam and Elaine were able to talk to some Dropout people to have them as guests on it, and that’s really what made it take off.
What did that look like on your end of seeing the show progress in popularity and see more people interested in it?
I mean, it was so exciting! Because whenever you create anything, you’re like, “Well, I guess we’ll see if people like this,” and you’re sort of just throwing darts in the dark. I was so thrilled that people responded so positively and, and I think it’s the chemistry that I have with the guests. But then also these were seasoned comedians from different universes, people who had been Internet people so they knew how to be funny in this sort of format. And I really think that helped me grow as a host. Seeing more and more people subscribe has been just like such a dream. I text my mom about it.
With Vic’s episode, we saw a huge bump. They were the first episode of season two. And then we were like, “Oh, let’s see what happens,” and we started growing 100 subscribers a week or something like that, and that felt crazy. And then with the Angela Giarratana episode from Smosh, we got a big bump from that as well.
It’s really just been quite dreamy and terrifying at the same time being like, “Oh no. When is it all just gonna go away?”
So this is your first, or if not first, most significant foray into using the Internet for your comedy. How has that transition felt for you?
I’m just very lucky that I have the executive producers that I have, because they really held my hand through, especially the first half of season two in terms of choosing clips and things like that. And just telling me to just really pummel the Internet and post every day. And that felt crazy, because I’m literally from the Midwest, and I apologize for existing. I’m bumping into chairs and apologizing, and now I’m supposed to be so incredibly seen, and ask people to give me money? Yeah, it just felt nuts. But then it’s like, well, this is a product. I am selling a product, and I just blindly followed what I was told to do. And once it started to work, and nobody was yelling at me, I was like, oh, this doesn’t matter. It’s fine, as long as you don’t tie your self worth to the Internet, you’re gonna be okay.
I admire you and teach me, because I’m also from the Midwest and I love to apologize. It’s almost like my favorite hobby at this point.
I know, it’s so fun to apologize, but it’s like a tic, and then you realize that you’re making the other person do more work to make you feel better if you’re constantly apologizing. And if the point of apologizing is because you feel like you don’t want other people to be bothered, if you somehow switch it in your brain and you’re like, “actually, I’m bothering them more,” you stop apologizing.
Use your own anxiety to combat your own anxiety, whatever works honestly. All right. Well, enough of our therapy session. You talked a little bit about how Pretty Gay got started, and it reminds me a lot of Ziwe or Chicken Shop Date, where viewers really enjoy watching people goof off and flirt with each other. And we can get into the psychology of that another time, maybe. But I was curious: Pretty Gay has a, well, pretty gay spin on that particular interview format. Other than the Grant O’Brien episode, I’m pretty sure you exclusively interview other queer women or queer non-men. Obviously part of that queer twist is because you yourself are queer, so it’s just sort of a given. But I was curious, too, if you felt that focusing so explicitly on this queer experience felt like a niche you were trying to fill?
It was really important to me that it was primarily going to be queer women and non-binary people. I really wanted to be able to see a lot of people being funny and laughing. It was really important to me to see queer people laugh on the Internet. It’s so important to keep up on all the different things that are happening in the world, the different legislations, and the ways in which the world needs to be better for us. But I also think it’s really nice to just see queer people just joke around. Do you know what I mean? Like “Yeah, I’m here. I’m making content. I’m sitting across from somebody who is, like, gorgeous, who’s also thriving.” That’s cool to see.
It was also really important in my personal journey of dating and being able to accept my queerness. I’m very femme-presenting. When I first came out, I felt I had to dim that, be less somehow, because I’m a woman who’s queer. Obviously you see gay men wearing sparkles and shouting from their rooftops, but I wasn’t seeing that as much for women. Obviously the media favors gay white men, but I wanted to be something else. I wanted to bring a seat to the table for everyone who looked like me, or looked different than me, but was definitely in this space of queer women, queer non-men. Decentering men in the show was very important.
Every single day, I wake up I say, ‘oh my goodness, I’m so happy I’m gay.’
Did you feel it was important, as a queer comedian, as a queer woman, to make sure that it was giving that voice to other queer comedians and queer women? Like you said, when the mainstream media thinks gay, they’re like, “We want like a white gay man, a white cis gay man. We don’t really want the lesbians. We don’t want the bisexuals. We don’t want the butch women.” Have you seen that in the response from people, of being really excited about a show like this?
Yeah, I think so. People have commented and they’ve been like, “we want to see a trans femme woman as a guest.” We were like, “Yeah, we’re listening.” We have Persephone this season. We’re trying to have a wide representation, specifically, on our show, because that’s all I can control. I can’t control what shows get picked up on TV, but being in the queer space and listening to my friends talk, so many of my friends are masc-presenting, and they’re not seeing themselves on TV, or the way in which they’re presented is so stereotypical. So when we look at our guests for the seasons, we’re obviously looking at our friends who are funny and talented and all of that. But we’re also looking at the people who are masc-presenting, who are trans, who might not have a show on TV, and so, like, “Come do my show!” Geez Louise, I like these people, these guests that I have. They’re so talented. The world at large doesn’t see as much representation, as many people like that. And so it matters if you have any kind of platform to use it. And it really matters to platform people who you’re not seeing in your community. Platforming others is my job, and I take my job pretty seriously.
The show is not just queer and flirtatious, it’s pretty explicit in some parts. I’m thinking of the segment “Wink for Kink” in particular. There are definitely some segments that are coy and subtle, but there’s a lot that are just straight up, “let’s talk about strap-ons.” Do you feel that the show is trying to make a statement with that?
I think it’s a little bit of that. But when we were crafting the different segments, we were just thinking of what sounds fun, and that felt fun, and it became more explicit, as we found our guests’ willingness to talk about these things. It was really exciting for me, because I came out later in life, and the minute I came out, I got into my first queer relationship. We got engaged, and then I was in that monogamous relationship for five years. So when I got into that relationship initially, I felt very much like, “Well, who do I turn to? Who do I ask? Am I doing this right?” I was so nervous, and then even more so after getting out of that relationship and then dating and discovering my sexuality even more.
When you’re brought up and you’re cultured female, you get a lot of shame around sex. You’re not supposed to talk about it, but you’re supposed to be good at it, and you’re not supposed to want it, but somehow you’re supposed to pleasure other people without thinking of your own pleasure. But that’s not how it is in the queer community. It very much is more open. So being able to talk and get other people’s experiences who might have dated more than I have, or who are bolder than me, I get to feel some of their confidence.
How was the process for creating the segments? What are the ones that you enjoy doing the most?
The segments came from a combination of improv games. A lot of them are queer-specific, to somebody who’s not dating in the straight realm. I have great writers like Kaylin Mahoney, Elaine Carroll, and Margaret Kaminsky. They all are just very funny, talented writers who come from different worlds. So Elaine’s bringing her improv experience, and then Margaret came out later in life, and she was dating and struggling with certain things. So then she’s able to provide those questions. And Kaylin comes from the standup world, and she’s writing fun little one-liners that I can throw out during those segments. So it’s definitely a group effort.
I love “Friend or Flirt.” That’s one of my favorite segments. That’s a great one. The kissing segment, “First Kiss,” I really love, and I also love “Break Up With Me,” because I think that a lot of people are really bad at breaking up. That’s always fun, because I also get to see my guests sort of squirm because I try to make it really hard for them.
What does the production of an episode look like? What does it look like taking one from start to finish?
Each season, we’ve scaled up more. So I’m so excited for season three, because we had more hands on deck. We do a ton of prep work. We do all the writing, and then we research all the guests, and we make lists of things that might be fun for the guest. If we’re getting the energy that this is going to be more of a talking episode, we might do less games. We shoot for an hour and a half with each guest, and that includes stopping and me checking in. I shoot with four different guests in a day.
That’s a lot of flirting to get through in one day.
I know, what a lucky lady I am!
I’m bad at flirting, too. I would be terrified to go on my show. Does that make sense? My friends have seen me flirt, and they’ve been like, “This is why you had to create a show for this. People are making concessions for your personality because you’re pretty, damn.”
That’s surprising to hear, you seem extremely confident and flirtatious, but maybe that’s the confidence of being the host, and being in charge.
I think part of it is that and also knowing what’s coming. What’s so tough about flirting is not always knowing what the game is, but as the host, I always know what the game is. But when you’re out in the real world, somebody could buy you a drink and then stand near their friends, and you’re like, “Okay, well, okay, so am I supposed to then go up to them and then what do I say?”
I think this is a cool format to have for the show too, because of the stereotype that lesbians and queer women don’t know how to flirt.
Every single day, I wake up I say, “oh my goodness, I’m so happy I’m gay,” but I was existing in the world for so long as an object of the male gaze. It was extremely uncomfortable all the time to be out and to have somebody enter your consciousness without permission and tell you to smile or whatever. All of it feels gross. And so I think then when lesbians and queer women come out, we’re sensitive to that experience — whether or not you’ve had it, you’ve heard of it, you’ve heard your friends have it. And so it’s like, I don’t want to bother this woman. She’s perfect.
I’m already in love with her so I’ll leave her alone.
Exactly. I think it’s just harder to navigate. You know, it’s not impossible, it’s just harder.
Which guests are you most excited to have on season three?
This next season, we have Cameron Esposito on and, I mean, I watched their comedy, and I was so enamored. A big part of me coming out was listening to the podcast that they used to do, and then watching their first special was very important to my healing journey. So then being able to have them come on to my show and pick me up. I mean, literally, she picks me up. She picked me up.
We had Liv Hewson on, and they’re a literal star. They’re so nice, they’re so funny, and they were so responsive even afterwards. Being reminded that I’m a part of this absolutely fantastic community of queer people, it’s been so wonderful, especially with where we are right now in the world. It’s been nice to be able to be like, “Oh, we’re still holding each other, at any level.”
Who would be a dream guest to have on the show? You can name multiple people if you have more than one answer.
Oh my gosh. Of course I have more than one answer! Wow, this is tough because I do want to name people that I just want to date.
So Doechii — she commented on one of the videos I did with Jiavani, and I immediately burst into tears. I mean, this was before she won a Grammy.
I’m really trying to get Margaret Cho, because I’ve always loved her comedy, but I also think she’s been a fantastic queer person to follow — the way she talks about her sexuality has made me more comfortable in talking about the nuances in my sexuality. I really want to get Holland Taylor and Sophia Bush in there as well.
That’s all for the questions I had to ask, but do you have any parting words?
Oh no, I’m just so thrilled. I really love Autostraddle as well. So you reaching out— I can’t express my gratitude enough. I love them. This show, it’s my literal dream. And I know that I wouldn’t have it without people like you, people who reach out.. I just want to give a shout out to the fans and the people who are watching, because people don’t know how much it means. I think they’re surprised even in real life, that it can turn around my entire day.
Season three of Pretty Gay premieres May 7 on Patreon. Some notable guests will include: Cameron Esposito, Liv Hewson, Shannon Beveridge, Angela Giarratana, Persephone Valentine, and more!
7 Comments
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Wow, I wasn’t familiar with this show and it sounds amazing! Definitely gonna check it out
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LOVED the liv hewson episode. i hope doechii calls you that would be EPIC.
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Are all the episodes available on the patreon? Had a look and couldn’t see the Liv Hewson one there
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No Filter: Everyone Who Is Queer and Hot and Cool Is a Taurus
feature image photo via Victoria Monét’s Instagram
Hello and welcome back to No Filter! This is the place where I tell you all about what our favorite famous queers were up to, via their posts on Instagram! Let’s rock and certainly also roll!
It really makes you think, doesn’t it? That everyone who is cool and hot is also a Taurus?
This look, to me, screams “haven’t you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door” and that, I love!
Well I guess it IS better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality???
Thrilled for these two, as ever. Their vibes are always good!
What do you know! Another stunning hottie, another Taurus!
Honestly my favorite thing about Reneé might indeed be that she is such a member of the Hive? It’s so relatable!
This is..perfect to me. A Meg Popeyes??? What??
Hey could everyone stop cancelling Kehlani’s concerts cause she’s pro-Palestine? That would rock for me!
…not to make this about me, but I still haven’t decided if I am going the fully country route for my Cowboy Carter look!
At this point the Betts family IS Pride? Like they run this shit!
STILL my favorite look of the night! The pattern, the tailoring, the colors, the hair…slayed, ate, left no crumbs.
Well I like this dress more in photos than I did on the carpet, but still…shoulda been a suit, Meg!
I am conflicted by this as the face is BEAT to the gods, but…a brand on the cheek? A LV brand at that? Hmm. Lip is so good!
After partyyyyyy look! Love this skirt and this…fabric that is a top. And I can’t get enough of her in the red hair!!
Okay I can’t lie, I like this look MORE knowing Paul Tazewell designed it. Sorry, that’s my truth!
Speaking of, I am begging for more Paul and Thom Browne collabs cause this???? Is perfect!
Well WELL WELL! Another ding dang Taurus legend!
Hunter is simply too good at dressing for my liking!
An Apocalypse Is a Great Way To Test a Relationship
This is The Parlour, a new weekly micro-essay series at Autostraddle for unfiltered, of-the-moment queer slice-of-life writing. We launched The Parlour initially as a newsletter and paywalled series, but we’re pivoting! The Parlour will no longer be a newsletter but rather a hybrid series on-site that is sometimes paywalled for our members, sometimes available to everyone (like this one! you can all read it!). The editors conceived of The Parlour as being an interesting way to archive current queer life on a super micro level. The writer for The Parlour rotates weekly, so you’re getting a bevy of queer and trans perspectives Wednesday to Wednesday. The purpose of these micro essays is to write in the moment, to ask questions without the pressure to answer them, to hopefully start a conversation and welcome you into our shared queer diary.
“Lisbon would make a fantastic apocalypse city,” I said to my girlfriend as we struggled up and down the city’s cobblestone streets. It reminded me of maps I’d seen in video games or zombie movies – lots of balconettes and varied rooftop heights perfect for fleeing or chasing. It was our second evening in town, and we were making our way to the queer street, Rua da Rosa, for dinner and drinks. We ate at a restaurant called Leonetta and both decided it would make a beautiful name for a daughter.
It was that same day we learned my girlfriend had accidentally set me up to misgender myself for the first 48 hours by telling me “thank you” in Portuguese is gendered based on the person you’re saying it to. So, to her understanding, you’d say “obrigado” when thanking a man and “obrigada” when thanking a woman. But what language actually works like that? None. The translation is actually gendered based on the person doing the thanking. So each time I proudly said “obrigada” to folks at the airport, taxi drivers, neighbors, shop workers, and everyone else we interacted with in our first two days, I was outing myself. Oops.
Unbeknownst to me, the next day I would catch a glimpse of what Lisbon might look like during an apocalypse. My girlfriend and I were on a private tour of neighboring cities, Sintra and Cascais, with our incredibly kind tour guide Tiago when the entire Iberian Peninsula’s grid went down. More specifically, we were in a castle on the top of a mountain.
First, it was the cell service. Texts weren’t sending, but that was to be expected in such a location. Next, the castle staff’s electronic system went down, making them unable to track the number of people on the grounds. We finally learned this was a large-scale issue when Tiago received a call from his mother, who he lived with, alerting him that Portugal, Spain, and part of France’s grids were down.
“Please take care of the cheesecake in the refrigerator?” he asked his mom. “It’s homemade,” he explained to us in the back of the Sprinter van.


Slowly but surely, each of our planned tours for the rest of the day was canceled for safety reasons. We were about 45 minutes away from central Lisbon, where we were staying, and none of the traffic lights were working. We had a decision to make: go back to Tiago’s house and eat cheesecake with him and his mom or try to make our way back to Lisbon. Tiago felt confident he could get us back to the city.
The electricity was, indeed, out in the apartment where we were staying. We were so tired from the nearly 20,000 steps we took earlier and took a shared nap on the living room couch. When we awoke, the power was still off. No problem, there appeared to be plenty of people in our neighborhood dining outside… surely restaurants have generators. Wrong. Everyone was in full March 2020 mode, erecting makeshift accommodations for hungry, panicked people and slightly breaking capacity and health code rules without clear instruction from the government on what to do. It oddly felt nostalgic and comforting, if not also absolutely terrifying.
“Does Portugal have any enemies?” I thought to myself. And eventually, aloud.
“I don’t think so,” my girlfriend replied.
This is how an apocalypse movie usually starts, to be fair. The grid goes down, governments fail to prepare their citizens for disaster, they freak out and take sides, and war begins without anyone ever having to deploy a weapon.
The emergency radio said restoring the grid could take anywhere between eight hours and three days. We were sure people would be looting the main strip of designer stores close to where we were staying within the first hour.
“Oh right, that would only happen in America,” my girlfriend and I remembered, grateful to be in Europe.
We made our way to a Sofitel on the main strip and stole their Wi-Fi out on the sidewalk. We were turned away from their restaurant since we weren’t staying there.
“We’ll pay! We have money!” we begged. The only problem was, we didn’t. We only had 40 euros between us, and all of the ATMs were out of service during the blackout. So there we were, in a foreign country with no cell service, no electricity, barely any cash, and all I knew how to say in the local language was “Thanks, I am a woman.”


Despite it all, I felt pretty calm. Maybe it was because I had already scoped out the best hideaway spots on our walks throughout the city, or because I had already experienced a widespread public disaster, or because I was with the love of my life… but I knew everything was going to be okay. After getting turned away from about 22 restaurants, in what my girlfriend described as a real “no room at the inn” situation, we found a small, local restaurant to eat at and be amongst people. After the server told us which items were still available to order, my girlfriend and I did some quick math to see how long we could make our 40 euros last and decided on our dinner order: a basket of bread with butter.
After an hour and forty minutes, the basket of bread and butter made it to our table. By then, the sun had begun to set, and the grid being down went from something that meant we couldn’t look at Instagram to something that meant we wouldn’t be able to find our way back to the apartment easily. Admittedly, we were scared! We started to discuss game plans in case our train in the morning would be canceled, how to get in touch with our parents back in the States, and how we’d eat the next day. We were trying to be practical but also, we’re two comedians, so we had as much fun as we could between logistical discussions. We people-watched, theorized what kind of cheesecake-filled life Tiago lived, and shared stories we somehow hadn’t told each other when, all of a sudden, a few street lights down the block lit up. And with the lights came cheers of locals and visitors alike in that small alleyway.
It was like people out on their fire escapes banging pots and pans together for medical professionals in 2020 — so happy and excited and relieved that they couldn’t help but shout about it.
All in all, the blackout lasted, for us, about ten hours. So, not quite apocalyptic status, but close enough. I maintain my original stance: Lisbon would make a fantastic apocalyptic city. But I think what I really learned is that my girlfriend makes a fantastic apocalyptic buddy.
6 Comments
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I wouldn’t worry too much about origada/o. People probably assumed you were just starting the language and making an easy mistake.
We do know that Lisbon would make an amazing apocalypse city, because it already happened. A powerful earthquake and tsunami hit Lisbon, followed by a massive firestorm, as it was All Soul’s Day, and everyone was in church, lighting candles. The existing city was flattened, and rebuilt as “Enlightenment on a budget”, as Rick Steves says.
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Non native speakers always struggle with tenses and genders in portuguese, doubtful anyone thought much of it.
Male form is universal both genders can use it.
Mini Crossword Joined a Gay Softball League
Our Best Memories With Our Worst Exes
Even bad relationships — or relationships that end in bad breakups — contain good memories. Even when it comes to the exes we by no means consider friends anymore, there are special places, experiences, objects, and adventures we shared with them once upon a time. It’s easy to remember the bad when it comes to a fraught or painful relationship. But I think it’s important to still remember the good, not in a nostalgic way but in a way that honors the person you were then and the complexity of romantic relationships, which so often can’t be summed up by or categorized as just Good and Bad. So I thought I’d take my own personal philosophy and ask a bunch of Autostraddle team members to share their favorite memories with their worst exes, prompting many an existential crisis about how to determine what “worst ex” really means. Naturally, we thought this would be a good one to hide behind the paywall so we could be a bit more candid.
What’s the memory you still hold onto of a person you’ve released yourself from? Share in the comments!
Fishing Is for Everyone
To begin, we must start with the fundamental, the original memory, even if it glares in our vision.
It is spring or early summer in rural Oklahoma, everything verdant shades of green, the wind crisp and cool. My mother and I are at the park, which is really not much of a park, but instead an offshoot of the country lands that surround us. Still, it is ours, as much as anything can be. We, and the thirty or so other members of the Elm Grove Baptist Church, are gathered there for a church-sponsored fishing competition, in which I, too, am competing, even as shy as I am, even as strange as I am. There is something about the outdoors, about the spirits that make up the earth, that calms me, that stills the restless fear inside of me unlike anything, even a book, even the Ghost, has ever done before.
The pond, for it is a pond and not a lake, is not fit for swimming. There is moss crawling up to the shore, and it is filled with strange, mean ducks, and yet it still glimmers beautifully in the sun, it still smells of something dark and appealing, it is still surrounded by clean air and singing birds and the whisper of vegetal and loamy secrets.
My father is there, somehow, a little late, in his bandana and sunglasses and patterned shirt. He does not look like a respectable father, for he is too large, for he is in a permanent state of tipsy, if not drunkenness, for he laughs too loudly. For he is much darker than any of the other fathers there, his skin is copper, and beside him I look as if a pale imitation of color. And, of course, there are the facts surrounding him: that I do not know him, that I fear him, and that I want him to love me, even though somehow, though no one has ever said it, I know that this is an impossible wish, an embarrassing one.
Still, his big hands are gentle as they cover mine, yes cast this way, guided by your breath, yes settle into the grass for a bit, even though everyone else around you is standing, feel the sun-warmed earth, isn’t it a beautiful day. No, keep the rod, watch the bobber (see, the other children’s father’s yanking it from their hands, sighing deeply), I’ll tell you when to pull up, and then you’ll show me. You’re a natural; you’re just like me, wait, now set the hook. She brings us a lemonade to share. Is the cap dusty? Sure, but it is sweet like the drop of dew from the honeysuckle, like they say about manna in Sunday School. She is so beautiful it makes me sad to look at her, sometimes. Her eyes are green like everything in the world that I love. His eyes, behind the shades, are the color of dirt gone wet by the hot summer rain. Is that really what I look like? So alive? Even now, I think, because I am not there to see it, he will be walking through the woods. Even now, I think, there is no way he can be dead.
Oh, but I remember so little else, though I want to so deeply it aches. Only the Barbie tackle box I won, the most fish by a mile in my category. Only the pride in his gaze. Only the ghosts. Only after everyone else is gone, and I am left alone, that at least I will have one thing left.
For there will always be fishing.
In this series, we are introduced to Faye Marsay (star of Adolescence), Emma, Vik, and SJ, four best friends who grew up in small towns where it wasn’t always easy to be queer. They love nature and being near water, and fishing is their safe space together. A space where they don’t see many women, or, as many of us can assume, anyone but cis white men. They have come to Ottawa, Canada not only to fish, but to learn and to experience, plus stay in a cozy cabin in the woods.
In my early watching, I could already tell something was different about this documentary, and for the better. The cast, on camera, holds a genuine warmth. Their love for each other, even when it isn’t expressed in words, is a presence on screen, a fifth castmate, if you will. SJ, especially, I felt connected to in that first episode. She expresses that she feels very lucky to travel, because she never thought it was possible, and like me neither. It feels like a dream come true every time I fly somewhere, much less am invited to attend an event. The gratitude each of them brings to this adventure speaks volumes about their characters. Even if we only know them a short while, we feel as if we are among them.
Each episode of Get Hooked follows roughly the same formula: We begin with a moment of centering from one of the main four, then transition into the car to travel to that day’s destination, with some gentle ribbing to whoever is driving. There, we meet our guide, go over our gear, learn about which fish we’ll be fishing, receive some teaching, and head to the water. After that, it’s a Polaroid picture, some reflection, and off to sleep in the cozy cabin.
Simple enough, no? But it is the way that the show handles the finer elements of destination, guide, gear, teaching, time on the water, and reflection that keeps the viewer compelled, even if you aren’t a fisherman, or have no previous interest in fishing at all. It is where magic, at least for me, is truly made.
On Destination
If you’re in North America, you’re on Native land. This is an inextricable fact. That said, I, like many other Indigenous people, tire of a land acknowledgement without backing, so I am very glad to report that Get Hooked does it the right way. Not only are the destination names where the cast will be fishing presented to you in their correct tongues, the series understands that there is no fishing without Indigenous people. This is demonstrated to us, among other things, through several Indigenous guides in several episodes (that they didn’t cram this history into one episode is another point in their favor). Right off the bat we learn that even the canoes we use today are based off Indigenous technology thousands of years old, and to always use the “never take the first, or the last” rule when it comes to fishing, harvesting, or any other kind of resource. We learn, too, that the cast has a respect for the beauty and power of the land they are on.
I was surprised by this, I’m a little ashamed to say. I am so used to defending the land I grew up on and around, the land of this country, to people who think it has no appeal, that it is ugly in a way only America can be, but I found none of this attitude in Get Hooked. What a beautiful thing, really.
On Guides
First off, I need the record to show that I would go fishing with every single one of the people on this show. That’s pretty high praise for me, someone who considers fishing not only spiritual, but sacred emotionally and culturally. Our guides are diverse, and they clearly love what they do, but they’re also good at what they do, even if the fish aren’t biting. This is another integral bit of wisdom ingrained in the series and repeated often: “It’s called fishing, not catching.” Though the group can get a little competitive, it is so friendly that one doesn’t even want to call it competition.
The guides in Get Hooked are truly stand out, from Demiesha Dennis who is challenging the ideas of who gets to occupy the outdoors, to Dave Furgoch, a blind angler with a passion for bringing fishing to others, to Frank Learney, a Sixties Scoop survivor who works in drug rehabilitation.
It was an amazing thing indeed to see this variety of Canada’s anglers, as well as the way they cheered on this group of queer people, despite the disparate experiences involved, and the idea of so many existing prejudices. The series taps in and sustains, too, the social aspect of fishing. The conversations had on the shore and in various boats may be intermittent, but they are far from staged. There is genuine interest and back and forth here, the kind that can’t be faked.
On Gear
Visually, not just including the landscape, the show is deeply compelling. Interspersed with our clearly shot by a professional cameraman moments, we see footage from the old video camera the group hauls around, which echoes a sentimental thread throughout the series. Technology, though it connects us, is also a burden. To return to nature is to return to ourselves. There is no Googling, no (Instagram) reels, just a fount of community knowledge, and a respite from the pains of the world. As guide Emily O’Brien puts it: “Severing the tether to technology is a huge thing!”
Plus, there’s just some amazing graphics. Each time we get a round-up about our gear or fish, they are not just listed on screen, but they become kitschy and interactive. I’m thinking of a musky howling at the moon and a VHS tape listing in particular. I find this attention to detail particularly admirable given the indie nature of the series.
On Teaching
Teach a man to fish, the old adage starts. But how one teaches said man (or woman) to fish is more important to me than why. The guides in this series, as I have already mentioned, all have their strengths, there is not a weak one among them. They also possess, each of them, an abundance of perseverance and humor. You must, really, to be a good fisherman. There is a deep like and respect the group holds for each of their shifting guides, and their friendship, deeply held, shifts to accommodate the wonder of new learning, and new people, each time they interact with them.
Yes, sometimes (quite a bit actually) no one catches ANYTHING, but that’s not the point. There are no poor teachers OR poor students in Get Hooked, for what is being taught, and in turn learned, in each episode is not simply fishing, but a kind of etiquette for living.
Take, for example, in episode five, when the group is with Kenneth Tse (science teacher and fishing guide), who says: “You have to fish cooperatively. It’s a more enjoyable process for everybody.” Fishing, then, is not an individualist’s game, but a community endeavor, one that everyone should, and can, participate in.
On Time on the Water
Time on the water is perhaps the most vital and action-oriented part of the series. For what is a fish without water? Of course, not everyone owns a boat, or is even able to navigate the sometimes treacherous walk to the water. It is here that the series’ commitment to accessibility shines. There is no competition made out of who can get to the murkiest or fastest running water, but instead an acknowledgment of the possibilities of other venues, such as a public park. A public park is exactly where the group meets Rosie Jones, an award-winning comic and actor who speaks openly about her disability and mobility issues. Fishing with Rosie is the way we round out the series, both with laughter and no small amount of peace.
On Reflection (and Endings)
If I am to criticize anything about Get Hooked, it is its brevity. Of course, beauty lies in brevity, too, but I would have loved more time with the group and their guides. But, so it goes, and all things must end. Each of the four of our main cast gets their time to reflect, and in doing so we feel more connected to them through their vulnerability, such as Emma expressing their love of surfing, or Vik’s particular brand of quiet contemplation. It charges us to reflect, too. On our relationship with nature, yes, but also each other.
And, if I can leave you with anything, it is to remember that the fascists (if I may be so bold) want us disconnected. They want us alienated from the world around us. Get Hooked, though it does not explicitly state this with a political bent, does understand that our future is not AI or TikTok, but in the natural world around us and each other.
And hey, if fishing isn’t up your… river, that’s okay, too. Whether it is learning about local pollinators or going on a weekly litter round-up, we can all center steps to make a better, and queerer, future.
All six episodes of GET HOOKED are streaming on OUTtv.com and AMI+.
8 Comments
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fishing IS queer culture!!!! i’ve been saying this!!!!!! so excited there’s now a series that proves my point, and this review is great to boot!!
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i imagine our too-big, too-brown, too-drunk, too-loud, two dead dads sitting in the grass alongside a body of water, cold cans sweating in their too-large hands while they share stories of us, pride filling their laughter, laughter so big it creates ripples along the water’s surface. <3
Met Gala 2025: All the Superfine Queer Looks From This Year’s Fashion
Like clockwork on the first Monday of May, anyone who cares about celebrity and fashion is logged on to watch the Met Gala looks come flying down the timeline. It’s one of spring’s most glorious traditions, sitting on your couch in ratty sweats and bemoaning the latest victim to attempt to wear satin on the red carpet. This is when we all suddenly become experts on the theme: who slayed, who missed, and who didn’t even bother to try.
This year’s theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” was both a cause for joy and, let’s be honest, slight worry. Andrew Bolton, head curator at Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute had described this theme as a way of paying tribute to André Leon Talley, but asking famous people to celebrate Black style right here in 2025? Well, I was worried, to say the least! “Superfine” was inspired by Monica L. Miller’s 2009 book, Slaves to Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity, and thus I expected to see a lot of misfires while attempting to nail the cool and effortless style. Being a Black Dandy isn’t just about a perfectly placed pocket square, or a crease so sharp it could kill a man. It’s a declaration of our being here, and our refusal to be erased. It’s about refinement as a weapon, it’s about reclaiming dignity in a world that refuses to show you any.
So, how did our favorite queers do last night? Without further ado, let’s get into it!

Colman Domingo & Raul Domingo wearing Valentino (photo by Savion Washington/Getty Images)
Colman is singularly the one man I was not worried about, as he dresses perfectly for this brief, and he was a co-chair! But I loove the pleating on his pants, the pattern mixing with the black and white and the RINGS! Raul also crushed, it’s giving perfect couple?

Sha-carri Richardson wearing Valentino by Alessandro Michele (photo by Savion Washington/Getty Images)
This is a nice dress! It feels a little more akin to the Sleeping Beauties theme from last year? But I like it!

Tessa Thompson (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
Black Dandy meets Queen of Hearts and THAT is the kind of energy I like and need to see!

Jonquel Q Jones (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
The best hair look on the carpet hands down!!

Breanna Stewart wearing Sergio Hudson (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
Serviceable! Perfectly serviceable! I mean, tough that both Anna Saiwai and Zendaya showed up in white suits, (Zendaya was the clear winner) but still! Love the lil curl, could have used like, one more accessory? But again, serviceable!

Doechii wearing Louis Vuitton (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
This is SO close to a full slay for me. The shorts need a little tailor assist, and I wish she stuck with Thom Browne for that very reason! But the hair?? The cigar? The cropped jacket? That’s a YES for me!

Cardi B (photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)
This is my favorite look of the night I think? I love the 70s dandy energy, and I love how very Cardi this feels. She is wearing it, not the other way around! I could…have done without the colored contacts, but alas, I shall live to fight another day.

Cynthia Erivo wearing a custom gown designed by Sarah Burton for Givenchy (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
I am…mixed on this? I want to like it? But something is stopping me from doing so, and I don’t know what it is! Maybe the high/low hemline is too dramatic? I don’t know!!!

Chappell Roan (photo by Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images)
Technically this should work? It should give me the same 70s vibe as Cardi, but perhaps this is too far into Bowie? I mean, she looks great! But it doesn’t read dandy to me, and that’s just the way of it!

Cole Escola, wearing Christopher John Rogers (photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)
This is PERFECT. Still feels unquestionably Cole, but you can clock the dandy inspiration in the cut of the pants and the wide lapels. No notes!

Christian Cowan and Sam Smith wearing Christian Cowan (photo by Theo Wargo/FilmMagic)
I don’t know why I can only think about The Phantom of the Opera when looking at this image, but alas, there it is. It works, I just want a little more, I think?

Lizzo wearing Christian Siriano (photo by Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images)
IN love with this look, it’s like if Ursula and Josephine Baker had a baby and it grew up simply to serve looks?

Hunter Schafer (photo by Savion Washington/Getty Images)
It’s actually troubling to me that Hunter can wear literally anything? Love the hat here, it shouldn’t quite work, but it does!

Ayo Edebiri wearing a custom gown from Maximillian Davis and Ferragamo (photo by John Shearer/WireImage)
LOVE THIS!!! Love that the coral is shoutout to her Dad and her Nigerian roots!

KeKe Palmer wearing Marc Jacobs (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
The black leggings are taking me out of this look, unfortch! I love the top, but the bottom….can go. With love to Keke!

Alex Newell (photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)
Alex Newell I love you but I need more? I’m so sorry that I hate this dress, actually! The more I look at it, the less I like it!

Megan Thee Stallion wearing Michael Kors (photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue)
Here’s the thing, Meg looks great in this silhouette! It’s just…we see this on her a lot, and I would have loved to see her in suit, or something menswear inspired. I love the hair, a gorgeous Josephine Baker reference!

Janelle Monáe wearing a Paul Tazewell/Thom Browne collaboration (photo by Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images)
It’s never a question if Janelle will nail the theme, it’s only a question of HOW, and this collab with Paul Tazewell and Thom Browne is it. The stripes, the black and red, plus the little steampunk monocle? Very Janelle, very dandy!
‘I’m a Switch Having Trouble Initiating Topping’
Q:
Hello!
I really enjoyed the article responding to the person who started dating a self-proclaimed switch who then did their best to avoid ever topping. I’m not That Person specifically, but I’ve found myself in a situation where I (who truly believes themself to be a switch) has ended up bottoming almost exclusively in about 7 months of being together.
My partner has made it clear that this makes them feel like shit — I top about once a month (I don’t initiate unless I want to which is unfortunately infrequent). They have a high libido and I have a relatively low one. Hence, they are always initiating and being sexually dominant because they want it to happen and I am obliging them when I’d mostly rather have an early night.
We have good and regular sex, and everything else in the relationship is going great. I really love them and want to make them feel desired and satisfied. So, my question comes in two parts:
1) any suggestions for how I can take the bull by the horns and manage to derail them from fucking me so I can return the favour more often?
2) how can I do this whilst not just topping with no desire to do it because I’m so used to coasting on responsive arousal?
A:
Hi to you!
Doesn’t it suck when a comfortable routine for you stresses your partner out? Your version of this is sexual, but all relationships find non-sexual versions of this too. Things settled into a pattern. It’s not ideal for one or both people. People have their reasons for not speaking up over something minor. Poof! A minor inconvenience is now entrenched in the relationship as routine, and the irritation builds.
Well, I commend you for seeing the effect this has on your partner and trying to find a way out. It’s difficult to make ourselves want to escape a satisfactory routine. We crave routine, comfort, and low-anxiety states of mind. Even if it’s a good decision, doing something that counters our love for routine is always an uphill fight.
You have options nonetheless.
On the question of derailing their attempts to top you so you can turn the tables on them, I think there’s room for exactly that. Turning the tables on a partner (consensually) is a common thread in kinky relationships. It’s especially popular when the dynamic has a mismatch, but there’s still sexual enthusiasm to overcome it. Two people who lean submissive and bratty ‘fighting’ over who gets to dom tonight. A switch deciding that it’d be more entertaining if they swung on top and dominated their partner. I won’t presume that your shared sexual dynamic has a particular leaning, but I must make it clear that there is an established form of play that involves flipping the script.
This kind of role reversal should be discussed with your partner ahead of time. I suspect they’d be quite happy with being ‘surprised’ by this reversal, once it’s negotiated. This is my first suggestion because it doesn’t replace the existing patterns you’ve built for your sex life. There’s an established pattern (routine, if you will) where your partner initiates sex. It’s very likely that even if your partner is frustrated, they’re also in this routine funk. Trying to make them deviate adds potential complications, but you’re not asking them to not initiate. You’re just leaving open the possibility that they’ll initiate and you’ll take over.
I think you already know what I’m talking about. The wording in your question like take the bull by the horns and derail them all speaks to diverting their existing interest in everyone’s favor. I see an opportunity here.
The potential hiccup I see in my idea is echoed by your second question. I live for submission, but I know that my dominant counterparts need to be in the zone for it to happen, just as much as I need to be in the zone for submission. How you can get out of the mindset of coasting on arousal to get up and TOP is much more personal. I can offer guidance, but everyone will be different.
Be a brat
Both in the vivacious Charli XCX way and rebellious, mischievous, and kinky way. If you’re able to adopt a ‘top’ mindset and not flip onto your back the moment a good time is promised, I envy you. But when I need to dislodge my submissive side and take charge, I require an alternate framing. Being ‘dominant’ just isn’t me. But being a little shit is absolutely my wheelhouse. The shortcut that works for me is to indulge in the mischief and rebellion already present inside me to flip into a semi-dominant mindset. If my partner gives in, then we’ve got a new rhythm going.
If you’re trying to achieve a mindset that deviates from cozy submission, it might be good to find a form of resistant/rebellious submission that suits your personality. Then aim that at your partner until they’re down bad and learning their place. Bratty teasing and domination comes to my mind because that’s the framing device that works for me, but you’ll want to cultivate your own. Or you can steal mine. That’d be pretty bratty.
Adopt the language
I’m an avowed pillow princess. I also have a Master’s in Psychology. Those two worlds collided hard when I realized that the quickest way to stir dominant urges in a partner is to do the following: Make sure they’re upright and I’m on my back, and then invite them in verbally and physically (I like coiling my legs around them and pulling them in). The message is unambiguous, and the response is typically ravenous.
Sex is the intertwining of bodies, and bodies have a language. I know this is straying close to ‘fake it ’til you make it’ self-help books, but I wholeheartedly believe it works. Want to start topping? Make sure your partner doesn’t get you into the regular positions of your bottoming routine. Stave off the urge to get comfy and coast on your responsive libido. Be upright, stay upright, and mimic their routines when sex starts. Match their dominant body language with yours, and press a little until they see your game and let you in.
And truly, do whatever it takes to make it easier for your body to speak that language of dominance. If bottoming means comfy pillows, push them aside as a reminder that you should not be so cozy right now. Be bratty and make a game of not letting them get the top position on you this time. Desire only springs from thin air when we’re intensely into someone. The rest of the time, we need a nudge. Giving yourself that nudge by any means necessary will set you up for the next step. Then the next. And pretty soon, you’ll blink and realize you’re on top of the world (your partner).
Go climb your sexy person
So there. I’m closing off my advice here in the interests of not drowning my beleaguered editor Kayla in another customary mammoth draft.
From what I can see, your relationship has the right ingredients to make this happen. You’ve got a mutual willingness to see to each other’s needs, and the reflection needed to identify the challenge. If my suggestions sounded more ‘fun’ than a more logistically minded outline of sexual dynamics, that’s the point. Sex should be fun, and turning the tables on a willing and enthusiastic partner is ecstatically so. To make it happen, you just need two nudges. One happens in the mind, and the other communicates with the body. The rest will follow in the attempt.
4 Comments
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Two additional thoughts:
Why exactly does your partner feel like shit with the current situation? Is it some sort of guilt for not being “equal” enough? Are they exhausted? Does it feel unfair for them? Do they actually miss bottoming? These are all completely different reasons with different potential solutions.
Re. Bratty, though many people like brattiness, it can also be a complete turnoff for some. I noticed that brattiness has become almost synonymous for switching, but its not everybodys definition of switching. -
Through brattiness all things are possible so jot that down
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As someone who tops all the time I too get frustrated by stuff like this. I think many people don’t want to top frequently! But we bite the bullet because we love our partners and want to see them happy, and most frequently once it gets going you get into it. Yes sex should be fun for everyone. I’m sure I don’t have the healthiest outlook and could stand to abstain when I’m not feeling it more frequently. But also sex doesn’t have to be a blast and awesome for everyone every time. It can just be a nice thing you do for your partner.
Ok something more constructive: don’t derail them from fucking you. Just start fucking them at the same time. Or just fuck them after. I know that can be a difficult head space switch but is certainly possible
I have a friend who says she’s polysaturated with one partner, which is a nice way to think about monogamy.