In 1985, my elderly neighbour showed me her copy of the National Enquirer. “He has that disease of the gays,” she said, pointing to a picture of Rock Hudson. I didn’t know who Rock Hudson was, but I had an idea of what gay meant, and what it meant to me. My nine-year-old brain thought that one day, because I was what that man was, I would also have what he had.

AIDS was a scary word to a nine-year-old. Our teachers weren’t talking about it, but it was on television. An episode of LA Law had Douglas Brackman convinced that he had contracted the virus. In a panic, he telephones a radio call-in show doctor. The doctor starts to name off various symptoms while a hypochondriac Brackman begins to “exhibit” some, wondering when he will show the others. The next day on the playground, my friends had to convince me that I didn’t have AIDS, because only gay people got it.

Little did they know.

Fast forward six years to junior high, when my eighth grade junior high teacher asks us to read a novel called Aller Retour by Québécois author Yves Beauchesne. I decide that I must meet this man, as he teaches at my local university. I knock on his door, and he greets me. He is handsome and very soft-spoken. I thank him for his time after I tell him how much I enjoyed his book. Three weeks later, Beauchesne is invited to come and speak to our class. The kid in front of me turns to me and says, “You should like this guy.” When I ask why, he says, “Because he’s a fruit like you.”

Beauchesne comes to the class and I do everything I can to avoid his gaze. He speaks to the class about writing the book, occasionally looking at me. I will do nothing to engage him or my classmates to make them think I know this thin man. Later at lunch, he comes and sits next to me, telling me that he is pleased to see me and that he is surprised that I was in the class he spoke to. I excuse myself, telling him I’ll be back.

I don’t come back.

A year or so later, Beauchesne dies from complications due to AIDS. I feel ashamed. Years later, when I attend the university where he taught, I tell this story to one of his old friends, who is head of the department where he taught. She soothes me and says that Yves would’ve understood. I sincerely hope so.

Three years later, I am the first and only kid to come out in my high school. I’m sitting with my entire high school in an auditorium while three people from Halifax are leading a presentation about HIV. One of them, a man in his 30s named Terry, discloses the fact that he is gay and HIV-positive. People start to look at me. Terry notices. He is strong, articulate and seemingly unafraid of a bunch of hormone-ridden kids who would do or say anything. At one point in the class, a kid asks him, “Do you like getting fucked in the ass?” A teacher starts to say something, but Terry calms the teacher down. He asks the kid to stand and says, “My sex life is my own. As is yours. Would you like it if I asked you the same question?” The kid mumbles and sits down.

I remember my experience with Yves and go up and introduce myself to Terry. I tell him I’m gay and he shakes my hand and praises me for being open. I tell him how I had been reading about HIV and AIDS, about groups like ACT UP, and about the AIDS Coalition in Halifax and how I want to get involved. I never see Terry again. I read his obituary years later.

Three people. One of whom I never met, one I shunned and another I admired. I grew up during the AIDS crisis while discovering my sexuality, something I can’t ignore. At this time of year, I believe it is important for me to remember these stories. That I remember these people.

If Freddie Mercury were alive today, he would’ve celebrated his 65th birthday last week. And he would still be rocking us.

There was something about Mercury that made him safe in so many ways to a young teenaged me. He was bombastic but knew how to be subtle when he needed to. He was camp but the head-bangers in my high school dug him because Wayne’s World had made Queen cool again. I remember telling them, years later, that Mercury was queer, a fact that had somehow eluded them. To have someone be openly queer and part of such a “masculine” genre of music seemed almost impossible to them. But there he was, staring them right in the face, all the while winking at me, telling me that everything was going to be all right.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all right for Freddie. He died from complications due to AIDS on Nov 24, 1991, one day after he publicly announced that he was HIV-positive. His death brought about discussions around HIV/AIDS, as well as sexuality, even in such “straight”-laced places as rock and roll.

In May of 1992, just a few months after Mercury’s death, a concert was held in his honour to mark his passing. Watching it on television left a huge mark on me, watching the performers sing the lyrics that Freddie would no longer sing. For those outside of the queer world, HIV and AIDS were frightening words that were mired in confusion and fear. Yet here was a man whose legacy was able to rally together such disparate artists as Metallica and Guns N’ Roses with Annie Lennox and David Bowie.

Not long before Mercury’s passing, Queen released the single “The Show Must Go On,” a track that discusses the very fragility of a performer’s life. “My makeup may be flaking but my smile still stays on,” could almost be Mercury’s epitaph, the line speaking of the consummate strength a performer holds on to, because the story, the message, the myth, is stronger than the man.

Freddie Mercury made it okay to be different. To be who you wanted to be. To be who I wanted to be. The show will go on, because of him.

On May 19, the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic had a new visitor it wanted everyone to meet. Its name was Hello Sailor and it came all the way across the Atlantic to greet us. The exhibition, which originated in Liverpool, chronicles the lives of queer individuals on the seas, from the military to ocean liners. The Halifax edition of the exhibit had a distinctly Nova Scotian flair to it, including interviews with sailors and mariners from the region.

Yesterday was the last day of the exhibit. Bryson Syliboy was one of the interview subjects involved in the Halifax edition, which includes anecdotes and photos of the young mariner. Syliboy, who has sailed on tall ships such as the Bluenose II and the True North, dreams of one day having his own tall ship.

Down East caught up with Bryson as the exhibit was winding down.

What was it like to contribute to this exhibition?

It was great to contribute to the Hello Sailor exhibit. I thought it was a neat idea, and having visited many maritime museums all over North America, I thought it was a very original idea to incorporate into an exhibit. I though it was going to be more controversial than it actually was, but I found that it was welcomed with open arms.

Has anyone recognized you from the exhibit?

A lot of people have recognized me. It's funny: they usually say, 'Hey, I just seen you at the museum!' Then it takes me a few seconds to realize that I have a static display up at the museum.

Has contributing to the show made you think of your time on the sea in a different manner?

It has made me think about my time at sea. How carefree and amazing the whole experience was. I got to see and do a lot of unique things. It made me realize how much I have done in my life and what I want to do with the rest of my life. I am excited to be going back to sea soon, looking forward to exploring the world. My time at sea when I was younger was such a great experience and it shaped me into the man that I am today. The dangerous aspects of being at sea opened up my eyes and made me realize how precious life is and how it is so easy to have that life taken away from you. Above all, it made me love the moments that I am with my family and friends, because you never know when the next time you will be able to see them again.

This letter was inspired by my previous open letter to Scott Thompson and a recent interview with Waters published in Slate, written by Andrew Edgecliffe-Johnson.

Dear John,

            I won’t start this letter with a thank you or a fuck you. I’m sure you’ve received lots of letters that start off with both of those. So how about “Howdy”? Now that the greetings are over with, I will, if you will permit me, praise you. Just a little bit. 

            I think the best way to tell you what I think of you is to tell you a few anecdotes that involve you and your films. First, I used to use your films as litmus tests for potential boyfriends. If they could handle watching Pink Flamingos and laugh their asses off, they were in. If not, I would seriously reconsider dating – or at least fucking – them. A sense of humour is one of the sexiest things around. By the same token, I know that when I meet people and the subject of your films and books comes up, if they think favourably of you, I tend to think more favourably of them. Birds of a feather and all that.

            A friend of mine and I discovered your films in the early '90s, when Cry-Baby came out. We were degenerate teens (at least in our own minds) and fell in love with Cry-Baby's "drapes." We both wanted to hang out with Hatchet Face and Wanda. C’mon, even gay teenage boys want to hang out with Traci Lords! One afternoon my friend and I were watching Cry Baby and Hairspray when my mother walked in. She sat down with us and enjoyed them as well. She thought they were silly, mind you. My favourite memory of that day was when she admitted to having hair like some of the girls in the movie. My own mother, a hair hopper! I gained a new level of respect for her.

I remember when I was in my first few years of university, I had a couple friends who were still in high school. I had told them about Pink Flamingos – this was during the '90s and my high school was in a rural area, where no video stores had a copy of it – and they wanted to see it, so I lent them my copy. I never got it back, but it did make the rounds of my former high school. I recently met up with an old teacher who told me that he figured I was the one who had lent it to his students. He applauded me for my love of bad taste.

In a recent interview, you talked about your “mixed feelings about gay culture going mainstream.” I have to say I applaud you for asking the question, “Why can’t we be villains in movies?” I think that’s why I always liked your movies. Anyone can be a villain, and who cares what they put where or why or how. No one is safe, just because they’re part of a (sub)culture. They can be as rotten or as wonderful as anyone else, just like in real life. 

            I think you should make more movies. I understand that you’ve been having difficulties getting your latest project, Fruitcake, off the ground. I guess no one wants to make a movie about a runaway boy who meets a girl, who was raised by gay guys, in pursuit of her long lost mother. As Clay Davis from The Wire (yay, Baltimore!) would say, “Sheeeit.” I’d pay to see that. Any time. I only wish I had the money to help you with it. Maybe Kickstarter or IndieGogo? C'mon, if Mink Stole can do it, so can you!

            I’d like to finish my letter by telling you one final anecdote. I think the best reaction to one of your movies I ever witnessed was when I was screening Flamingos for a group of friends. At the scene where Cracker and Cookie are fucking/fighting with the chicken, one girl got up and almost vomited. She began to cry, as she found the scene repulsive and repugnant. I couldn’t stop laughing. Thanks for that.

Keep on doing what you’re doing. You’ll always have a fan in me.

- Simon

PS: Did you know that Pink Flamingos is on Nova Scotia’s “banned films” list? It was banned when it was released in the '70s and has never been reclassified.  Video stores here have copies of it, but if someone makes a complaint, the province can take it off the shelves. The more things change . . . 

Kudos to Catherine Galliford, the RCMP officer who has taken it upon herself to voice what she has seen and experienced as the head of the Missing Women’s Task Force in Vancouver.

The Province recently posted a story about Galliford, who is slated to testify in January at the Missing Women Commission of Inquiry. Galliford gave a statement to the RCMP totalling 115 pages, which included her claim that the RCMP had enough evidence to ask for a search warrant to search Robert Pickton’s farm in 1999. Pickton’s farm was not raided until 2002. She herself was subjected to ridicule and insults. According to The Province:

The officers, Galliford alleged, wanted to tell her about “their fantasy.”

“They wanted to see Willie Pickton escape from prison, track me down and strip me naked, string me up on a meat hook and gut me like a pig,” said Galliford, who also recounted the episode in her formal statement to RCMP.

The worst part about all of this is that I’m not really surprised by any of the information that I’m reading. There are many issues at stake with this investigation, including violence against women, as well as the treatment of First Nations women. But this did get me thinking about images and ideas around sex workers, specifically within law enforcement and the media. Note: this is not to ignore the other issues or to disavow that these three separate issues are not often connected. I also do not wish to make sweeping generalizations that all the women who were murdered by Pickton were sex workers, but it is known that many of them were. 

Sex workers are often portrayed and viewed by police officials – as well as the mainstream media – as victims or criminals or both. This is problematic at best. One of the main issues in discussions about the sex trade is a lack of knowledge – a bias I admit to and am working to diminish by informing myself about issues related to sex work.

It is a bias that I would argue many journalists are subject to, without even being conscious of it, let alone understanding it. The fact that the word “hooker” is still used by many mainstream media outlets is another example of the lack of knowledge and respect that many people in the sex trade deal with.

To expect that a law enforcement agency would make the effort to understand its own biases is laughable to some and unfortunate to all who are subject to it. If we are to talk of victimization, then I would argue that Galliford was a victim of this bias, as were the women – both counted and uncounted – who fell to Pickton.

****

A final thought: the irony is not lost on me that the day The Province posted this story, Xtra posted the story of Gerald Hannon, who was a sex worker, announcing his “retirement” from the industry in what is a positive description about sex work, with an interview conducted by someone in the trade.

It looks like Bette Midler isn't the only one cleaning out her closet.  But no wire coat hangers in this one....

Doyle New York is holding an auction on Wednesday, Dec 7 to auction off part of Joan Crawford's estate. You could own such things as correspondence (including this letter, which releases Ms Crawford from her contract with MGM), artworks, personal photographs, jewellery, furs and more. You can even view the catalogue here.

Personally, I'd like to get the pin, shown above. That way I can pretend I am her, sitting at a boardroom table where I could say . . . 

#culturalstereotypingfulfilled

Two years ago, the Nova Scotia Rainbow Action Project (NSRAP) held a meeting in which they discussed the needs of seniors in the queer community. One of the projects suggested that day was to create a social organization for elders. That’s how Elderberries was born.

Lynn Murphy is a former librarian and a founding member of Elderberries. The organization’s mandate is to provide a social and educational outlet for queer seniors who are over 50. The group is organized by a managing committee, and meetings are held once a month, usually at Spencer House on Morris St. One of the more popular ideas was to organize all Elderberries events as potlucks, with people bringing all sorts of goodies. “We thought people would enjoy it,” says Murphy. “Amazingly enough, lots of people like to cook.” That’s not surprising, considering this weekend’s discussion will host two students from the Applied Human Nutrition Program at Mount Saint Vincent. The students will discuss healthy cooking practices.

The group has hosted all sorts of discussions and round tables on a variety of topics, from diversity in healthcare to dealing with wills and estates. They also have occasional outings, including visits to art galleries and outdoor picnics. During Pride Week, the group created small pennants that they sold during the festivities. They also were invited to speak about queer history as part of a series of lectures presented by the Halifax Regional Library. “I talked about how you [may] have LGBTQ history in your basement,” enthuses Murphy. “These things are so interesting for the future understanding.” Lynn also notes that many of the members have made themselves available to academics and researchers looking for information about Halifax’s queer history.

As for the social aspect of the group, Murphy points out that “the clubs are not where most elders want to go.” Murphy notes that there is a need for the social outlet that clubs offer and that elders often deal with social isolation due to factors including mobility, health issues and decaying social networks. Accessibility is a big issue for many of the participants, including Murphy, who has some mobility issues. “You have to be pushy to say this, but [accessibility] really matters,” she points out. “If you’re going to have an event at a location that has stairs, it’s an inaccessible space.” So it was important to make the events as accessible to as many people as possible. Murphy admits that she wishes the group had the finances for interpreters for individuals who are deaf or hard of hearing, but it’s not always possible. But, she points out, they are working on making the group viable for as many people as possible.

In the meantime, Murphy and the rest of the Elderberries will be meeting this Sunday. Although this weekend’s session is about healthy food, Murphy admits that one of the best parts of the meetings are the sweets that are passed around at the potluck. “I have a sweet tooth,” she says. 

For more information on Elderberries, contact nselderberries@gmail.com or check out their Facebook page.

It was bound to happen.

Canadian electronic goddess Peaches recently collaborated with New York rapper Cazwell on a track and video called "Unzip Me," which also features cameos by Cazwell's muse Amanda Lepore, as well as Justin Vivian Bond.

Cazwell's videos often depict him surrounded by a bevy of young(er) eye-candy (have you seen "All Over My Face"? ). Although this one doesn't follow that formula, he does make reference to his penchant for those who may not be where they are (fast-forward to 2:13). Personally, I can never get enough of Amanda Lepore. To have her popping up in the video alongside these two is a threesome made in heaven.

I think the best thing about this video is that I heard about it from The Huffington Post. #headexplodes

Warning: language NSFW

The cabaret, which is open until 3:30am, is slated to move to the former Marquee/Paragon space, which has sat idle for a little less than a year now. The area in which the bar would operate is undergoing many changes, including new businesses and residences. Across the street from the building are locally based businesses, as well as a rehabilitation centre. Kitty-corner to the space is a residential area.

The move has a lot of people excited, including some residents who are trying to stop the move from happening. In Nova Scotia, before a bar can open, there is an application process where the public can voice their support for as well as grievances against the opening of the space. In this case, neighbours on both sides seem to be making their cases known.

There have been bars on Gottingen St and in the area for years, some of them are located directly in the residential area. I have lived in various Halifax locales, including right in the middle of the downtown core and in the area near where Reflections plans to move. I was keenly aware of the fact that I was (or would be) surrounded by bars and businesses that would create or promote foot traffic in the area. But I made a conscious choice to live there. Granted, I was renting, not owning, so moving out would be easier. I could sympathize with the residents if all of a sudden a large commercial space was created in the area in which I lived. But this isn’t all of a sudden. There has been a bar there for years and years and years. Just because the last bar closed in that space doesn’t mean someone won’t try to make a go of it, nor should you complain if you live in an area where such businesses are zoned. You chose where to make your bed; sleep in it.

The aforementioned public hearing on the matter will be held on Nov 29 in the review board offices at 1601 Lower Water St. It will be interesting to see who and what people have to say about it.

***

In other news, there will be a discussion around trans rights happening at the Scotia Bank Room at King's College. The evening will include discussions about "gender, trans issues, cis-privilege, other aspects of our identities and lives that intersect with gender in how we navigate and think about bathrooms as public space," according to the Facebook event page. You can find out more here.

I tend not to post on Saturdays, but this seemed like the perfect exception to break the rule. 

The reason: Sambaca, by Alien Alien. The record was released in March of this year, with a video, directed by Manuel Savoia, hitting the internet less than two weeks ago. The record is a slow burn of deep, dark voodoo-tinged disco. It's a record that won't quit with a video that glamorizes gender-queer images in an unapologetic and sexy manner:  bearded boys in heels pop, lock and strut in a decimated urban landscape, while the inimitable Lola Kola begs you to take it all in and join her in dancing to a grinding bassline that begs for undernourished sex drives to feed upon it.

I have been listening to this record for the past three days on repeat. I turn it up, boost the bass on my sound system and imagine what this record would sound like on a really big sound system.

#saturdaynightsexiness

ALIEN ALIEN - SAMBACA from manuel savoia on Vimeo.