Images courtesy of Cristy C Road.
“Merging my ancestral magic and my deep elevation of the universe over capitalism and materialism has been a long journey,” says Cristy C. Road, a journey that’s at least partly realized in her new — and long-awaited — Next World Tarot.
by Cristy C Road for Next World Tarot
Each card in the deck features Road’s illustrations — mostly portraits, pivotal moments of protest, or representational of concepts like the carbon bubble and total liberation — in what she calls an “oracle of resistance.” The magic in the tarot is in the assemblage of symbols, which vary from deck to deck. The tarot reader decodes all of this vital visual imagery and puts it to work, largely for help with decision-making and magic ritual. It mostly just leads to some really, really deep thinking.
“There is all this traditional symbolism that I get to work with and redefine,” she says. “I think the power behind symbols and imagery is mysterious and potent — we just don’t always get to see it until the art itself becomes a bigger part of our life.”
It is with this philosophy that Road folds the stories of 78 iconic, symbolic illustrations into the suits and stars of the traditional Major/Minor arcana format. Tarot imagery is by nature eclectic, as artists and tarotists continue to create their own symbology. Rider-Waite, the most-printed tarot deck, which hails from 1910s London, reflects a lily-white Medieval antiquity with which a majority of modern day readers don’t connect. Cristy’s symbolism comes from a collective consciousness, told in bits and pieces by those who are featured in the deck, many of whom reflect the people around her.
by Cristy C Road from Next World Tarot
Evoking historical imagery is a tool of resistance, and the Next World Tarot celebrates a present community that embodies “antique” tarot icons like Fool hanging out in Yonkers to Justice on the front lines of the resistance. Instead of ancestors offering guidance, the Next World Tarot offers cards like Revolution, a woman and a child protecting a garden of luscious plant life while the fight to Defend The Sacred blazes on behind them. The community support around the creation of this deck — Road was able to focus on finishing the illustrations largely due to tremendous peer support and a preorder campaign, and the deck gained an advance cult following — only magnifies the unity that Next World Tarot establishes by bringing together this chosen group of icons, mixing the symbology of Tarot with the wisdom of ancestor worship and positing that these 78 revolutionary individuals and experiences are modern-day saints.
For Road, working with her ancestors “has enabled a sense of security and awareness, and that grounded feeling is such a huge goal in regards to survival,” she told me in our interview, which was focused on how art and magic intersect for artists with Yoruba-based spiritual practises. “I have always been aware of a magical realm that is a vital part of survival — a part that was destroyed by colonialism.” She now turns that attention to Next World, which boldly defines a future generation of saints.
by Cristy C Road from Next World Tarot
Road says she didn’t explore her spiritual connections — located in the historical roots of Santería— for a long time because sexism and white supremacy leaked its way into her culture (she was raised in Miami) and dominated the religious culture around her. “That’s why I looked for punk rock,” she says.
“In the end it’s all about sacred creations healing me,” she says of her spiritual life. “I can’t deny what I get from herbal medicine, a conversation with a ghost, or a song that changes my life.”
by Cristy C Road from Next World Tarot
Santería, one of the starting points for Road’s intersectional work around resistance, survival and spirituality, is an African diaspora religion based in the Caribbean that reflects elements of Roman Catholicism and Yoruba. Yoruba religion has its roots primarily in southwestern Nigeria and surrounding regions, reflected in modern practise as Santería, Trinidad Orisha, Brujeria, Hoodoo, Haitian Vodou and Louisiana Voodoo. In Yoruba tradition, any attention paid to your spiritual self is said to bring you joy. By paying attention to your spiritual self from a young age, your ancestors may seem more apparent to you or come to you sooner, when elements of their spirits take hold in your body.
The practise of connecting with your ancestors and receiving their wisdom is central to Road’s spirituality, despite knowing that making these connections in a capitalist and colonial world is bound to be hard. She says she’s learned that stuff like romantic couplehood and self-care are part of the capitalist structures that don’t lead to connectivity for her, and instead further the pressure to feel worthless or not whole. After struggling with depression, anxiety and PTSD, Road says she is learning to heal from trauma that has left her with those feelings of worthlessness. “I either feel detached from my work, or like I am just my work,” she says, referring to what it feels like to experience trauma as an artist. “It feels far away from my actual body,” she continues. “The idea of total connection is a feeling I’ve wanted from just existing and doing what I do for a long assed time; but simply just eating vegetables, meditating and taking the right herbs is not enough.” She also says:
“I started decolonizing my surroundings and speaking to the roots of my identity: making altars for my ancestors who wanted to help me, discovering that connection between my body and the earth / universe that is fueled by plants and ancestral medicine and rituals in conjunction with the moon and the sun, truly working with the earth and resisting capitalism and colonization but in the context of an urban life. Finding out what that truly looks like, accepting that I needed my roots but couldn’t run back to Miami. Pairing that with the total ownership of my creative goals and identity (that’s definitely shone since finding punk rock) is what I’ve needed for a long-ass time.”
by Cristy C Road from the Next World Tarot
A tarot deck was not built to tell the truth or a certain past or history. It relies on the power of communication to suggest possible outcomes and possible routes of action based on intuitively assigning meaning to a common set of symbols. How do you read Cristy’s cards?
“I’ve always included subliminal details that not everyone understands, but everyone defines on their own. That is really special to me,” she says.
It will be easy to use if you follow your own instinct and inquire within.
Celebrating women’s bodies; protesting gender inequality, sexual harassment, and police violence; and lifting each other up is essential feminist work. In a new art installation, Los Angeles-based photographer Maggie West, who specializes in experimental technicolor lighting and whose work increasingly critiques still-rigid contemporary ideas about gender and sexuality, worked with 40 women subjects — including Stephanie Beatriz, Joanna Angel, Nikki Hearts, Gaby Dunn, Trace Lysette, Alexis Zall, Isis King and more — to do just that.
“An unashamed woman is a mighty powerful force, but a hoard of women who’ve taken to the streets to shed their shame — well that’s unstoppable,” says Whitney Bell, one of the women featured.
Part of Amber Rose’s third Slutwalk, 96 is an outdoor steel-and-plexiglass art installation, with nudes printed on triangles to form an outdoor stained glass ceiling in the middle of Pershing Square in downtown Los Angeles. A play on the idea of women saints depicted in stained glass as a celebration of their purity, in 96, West celebrates women’s freedom to sexual self-expression and to protest sexual violence. In an artist statement, West notes, “The title, 98, is taken from a Department of Justice statistic that says every 98 seconds an American is sexually assaulted.”
The project includes 40 women, including queer women and trans women — artists, sex workers, actors, models, photographers, and the internet famous — to help highlight the unavoidable experience of sexual harassment. “Diversity is a very important part of this project. All women (including queer women, trans women, sex workers, etc.) have experienced the type of harassment, violence and discrimination Slutwalk was designed to protest,” says West. “This installation brings together women of various backgrounds, ethnicities, and sexual orientations to send a message about a woman’s right to sexual expression without experiencing threats or violence.”
96 opens October 1. Can’t get to downtown LA or want a preview? Check out a selection of the work below.
Stephanie Beatriz by Maggie West
Megan Lytle by Maggie West
Paulina Hurtado by Maggie West
Gaby Dunn by Maggie West
Ana Foxxx by Maggie West
Arisce Wanzer by Maggie West
Tanya Negin by Maggie West
Kellee Moran by Maggie West
Keisha Grey by Maggie West
Leigh Raven by Maggie West
Nikki Hearts by Maggie West
Jazzmyne Robbins by Maggie West
Sanam Sindhi by Maggie West
Caroline Miner by Maggie West
Isis King by Maggie West
Crissy Milazzo by Maggie West
Riley Nixon by Maggie West
Stephanie Frosch by Maggie West
Luna Lovebad by Maggie West
Gia Gunn by Maggie West
You’ve probably seen (and loved) pictures from Meg Allen’s “BUTCH” photo series around the internet — a breathtakingly diverse array of masculine-of-center women, trans men, and non-binary folks of all ages, races, professions and body types exuding confidence, comfort and great hair. Allen, who is butch-identified herself, photographed 123 models throughout the San Francisco Bay Area in an aim to “see a body of work on all butch women.”
She started out just wanting to practice doing portraits and putting together a unified body of work. She exhibited the 37 portraits she’d shot at the (now defunct) Lexington Club in San Francisco, and the response led Allen to feel there was more work to do: “I realized that maybe this thing that I thought was for me only was actually something my community really wanted and needed to see.”
Even though she was the photographer, the butch-identified Allen felt doubly seen when viewing her own poster-sized portraits. “It’s similar to how I felt when I went to my first dyke club,” She explained. “I was surrounded by people who were like me and I felt like I had a community for the first time. I felt like I belonged, and not only that, I felt like I was desired.”
“Representation through art is important, because it removes society’s rules, hierarchies and structures,” Allen explained. “An artist creates and asks a viewer to enter an unfamiliar world with different rules and customs and there’s no wrong way to experience what one sees in this dynamic. Art just asks that we look and experience and then see what happens.”
There’ve been a lot of conversations around the idea that butches are “going extinct,” but Allen feels the identity is alive and well — it just takes some different forms now. “In the lesbian community there was a sentiment, and I think there still is, that butches are disappearing. Some say that many butches have transitioned to men or identify as male and there was a sense of loss from the folks I was hearing this from,” she recalled. Allen wanted to know who identified as butch these days and what the “lay of the butch landscape” was.
She ended up photographing mostly female-identified people, but also genderqueer folks and some trans men: “The butch identity overlaps these groups…. butch identity doesn’t conform.”
She continued, “some butches have decided to identify as genderqueer and are completely ambiguous in how they gender their bodies. But butches aren’t disappearing. Non-gender conforming [presentations] have only grown.”
Allen quickly found that “there are a lot of butches out there still. More than ever. And in a larger variety than ever. And that is what my project depicts, in style, body, race and gender non-conformity.”
For Allen, the process of accepting her body has been a long one. “As I got older I learned to love the body I was given, and I did have to LEARN that. As women we are taught to hate our bodies, but why? Why can’t we just be who we are as we are? The answer is in the photographs, butches ARE who they are, and that looks only slightly different for some than it did in the ’50s for example.”
The decision to name the project “BUTCH” came from a specific intention to respect the term from a historical perspective: “I feel like because ‘butch’ is an older and more well-known or even antiquated term, I liked it as an umbrella term. I was looking to update my own idea about what butch means today. It’s a nod to where we came from and who has paved the way in order for the younger generations to be as out and flamboyant as we are now. When I think of butches, I think of the frontier gender-bending queers that had to tolerate a lot of hate and discrimination and exclusion from everything of their time. And I want to infuse meaning to that word to include the current generation of mixed race, mixed gender presentation, and modern culture.”
BUTCH is, at once, a series that challenges norms, strikes the heart, and humanizes the photo subject beyond labels. I asked Allen if this was part of what made the series important.
“In particular, BUTCH is important for two reasons. One, it memorializes a time for queers in the Bay Area that I think is changing rapidly. San Francisco and the Mission District especially used to be a queer haven, but as tech has taken over and bumped prices up it has displaced many queers in the community, especially queers of color. The other reason is that it provides visibility to a community that STILL hardly ever gets represented in mainstream media and advertising. I think the main reason we have finally got some visibility is the internet. We’ve sought each other out and we think our representation is important. And because of all of us finding one another and coming together, the mainstream is finally noticing us as well.”
So what does Allen hope audiences take away from the project?
“For queer viewers I hope they get excited and feel the company of their community. I hope they feel celebrated and seen and inspired to be their best selves and live their lives true to themselves. And I hope that it makes them feel brave and beautiful.
“For straight viewers I hope they just take it all in. This is their chance to stare. I hope it makes them think about gender and their biases as cis and hetero women and men and how the old traditions of gender actually limit them. And I hope they see the beauty that I see in all of these butches, but I won’t hold my breath for that. I think butch is beautiful and that’s enough for me.”
As for Allen, she’s currently working on a variety of projects including working with local artist for a show in Oakland this summer and making her cinematographer debut in film (check out the trailer!). And, she said, there will be more queer work in series form soon. We can’t wait!
Welcome to Queer IRL, a monthly Autostraddle community photo series that gathers little clips of lesbian, bisexual, queer and otherwise-identified women, trans and non-binary folks, just living our lives in 2017.
I thought it would be cool to have a gallery of everyone working their butts off before the summer holiday — and it is, it’s super cool — but also it’s really moving?? I wasn’t prepared for that. WE ARE EVERYWHERE AND DOING SO MUCH. So much! You’re out in the world better and smarter and more fascinating, and it’s really important!
Good job, everyone. Now kick back and enjoy this gallery of nearly 100 queers doing the damn thing!
One of the classic, ancient queer artist professions: barista.
Clear photo of RBF: resting barista face.
“I went back to coffee after a few years of other things, because it was one of the few things that didn’t, oddly, feel demeaning to me as an artist, and it’s flexible. I move a lot and it’s an easy job to find.
Forever trying to coax rural Georgians into drinking a proper Macchiato by day, writing scripts/plays and preparing for acting auditions by night.”
“I study computer science and had a very stressful dream last night where my laptop fell into a river. The cat mug is an excellent gift with a cat that looks like mine but actually isn’t. I didn’t clean up my desk for this (sorry, not sorry). I love that I can see trees while I work.”
“Since I was young I have always been passionate about nature and now I have the extreme privilege to work for the National Audubon Society. I am the program manager of an adult summer camp for birdwatchers located at the historic Hog Island Audubon Camp. For five months of the year I live on a little slice of heaven and connect people to the great outdoors and the remaining months I work from home in Colorado.
“Front Office attached to a locomotive shop where I am currently emailing city transit authorities.”
“I nanny this kiddo and do some odd jobs on the farm where he lives. I don’t know how I got so lucky. I hope he remembers me when he gets older.”
“I’m smiling because I didn’t throw up during my A-Camp staff reading.”
“I’m a research assistant at a university film library, where I watch our library’s laserdisc collection and document rare and exclusive film content. People who work in my department are always asking me, “What…exactly do you do?” I have a standard, sophisticated answer I give them but the real answer is, “I watch movies all day.” Also, since I’m used to 12″ laserdiscs, DVDs now look very small in my hand.”
“This is me! Teaching people how to build a wind turbine! That’s what I do and I love it!
I face a LOT of sexism, each course I teach brings me between 2 and 6 male specimens, older than me, who can’t believe (or can’t accept) a young queer gal like me is about to teach them how to properly use woodworking tools and how to weld. I’m always supported by my colleagues. I remain in love with my work environment despite of these sad encounters.
I feel like I’m making a change in the world, one wind turbine at a time!”
“I took the first picture while I was actually at work (in a burrito restaurant – hence the bright green apron!) on the day of the Women’s March. I was working a 10-hour shift and couldn’t make it to the march in London, which I was gutted about. I tried to make up for it with the pins on my shirt.
The second picture was taken at the National Union of Students LGBT+ Conference in March, when I was all dressed up to attend a fancy dinner as a delegate of my university’s students’ union. It was the first time I’d worn a suit and I felt great!”
“Having the opportunity to learn about darkroom photography in a social space has been awesome for me because I get to collaborate with people that love what they do.. Also having a space outside of school to do something fun but productive is really calming.. I might get a little sweaty rolling film and stuff, but it’s definitely worth it!”
Sometimes you have to step outside to remember who you are and who you want to be. And sometimes, you have to retreat to the epicentre of yourself, surrounded by whatever environment you can create.
Queer life is often contextualized in terms of public spaces: fighting for our right to them, coming together in them, mourning or shouting or celebrating in them. But private spaces reveal queer life, too: The things that might be important or might be deeply unimportant. Quiet domestic moments, alone or not. The everyday.
choreographer Elizabeth Streb and journalist Laura Flanders
Photographer Tom Atwood explores everyday queer domesticity and home spaces in Kings & Queens In Their Castles, a photoseries forthcoming April 25.
artists Julie Mehretu and Jessica Rankin
The series includes a mix of 160 high-and low-profile subjects photographed over 15 years, and focuses on showcasing people across the United States in a range of professions, including writers, activists, actors, musicians, bee keepers, nuns and a paleontologist, to the detriment of any other kind of representation. The subjects are overwhelmingly male, white, cis, able-bodied and well-off.
transgender Native American activist Dominique Storni
In the artist’s statement, Atwood notes: “Many LGBTQ series depict scantily-clothed young subjects romping through the forest or lounging on the beach. There was a need for a series highlighting our manifold personalities and backgrounds.” There still is. (Though Autostraddle’s Queer IRL photo galleries nod to the same impulse – voyeurism coupled with curiosity at how other queers live their lives, more diversely executed.) But what Kings & Queens In Their Castles does achieve, however imperfectly, is a cracked-window view into quiet moments of queer domesticity.
activist and sex worker Maggie Zall and dancer Nicole Stroumbos (friend)
In the artist’s statement, Atwood notes:
“The LGBTQ person’s home is an extension of him/herself. And for a community sometimes obsessed with image and beauty, our living spaces can also be the ultimate in self-expression. With a flair for design, many of these subjects have crafted playful, often outlandish homes that tell stories about their inhabitants. […]
To fully create 360-degree portraits, I photograph people in daily activity — modern day tableaux vivants. I seek out whimsical, intimate moments of everyday life that shift between the pictorial and the theatrical. While the images often have an element of voyeurism, my subjects occasionally look at the camera.”
Georgetown student and disability activist Lydia Brown
The photography combines pieces of formal portraiture, architectural photography and casual snapshots with the aim of showing how people reflect their habitats and how habitats reflect their people.
insurance agent Melanie Hamilton and banker Robyn Martinez
On a dyke commune or in the middle of New York, consciously or unconsciously, we surround ourselves with objects in order to live. The choices we make as we build our environments can reveal our values, our priorities, and where we direct our intentions or don’t. Which means that, though literal nudity is sparse, almost all of the subjects seem at least a little bit naked.
pizzeria manager Kim Homer (friend), women’s studies professor Oak Chezar, and potter Joy Boston
That same feeling of being the voyeur prevails in every photograph. The scenes do not feel censored. Even where subjects acknowledge the camera, it feels less like the fourth wall breaking and more like a bit of a wink. Contextualized only by name, profession and geography, the photos are left to stand almost alone to ping revelations about the people within them.
chef Ria Pell and web developer Kiki Carr
They suggest that you can learn something fundamental about a person just by seeing how they live. They simultaneously suggest that you can never learn anything fundamental about a person, even when seeing them surrounded by everything that has something to do with how they live.
composter Holly Taylor and cartoonist Alison Bechdel
I started shooting because I didn’t know what else to do.
I started really as a kid, with disposable cameras. Then those little square digital cameras, then a 90s minolta I didn’t understand.
I started because I figured, this is it. I might as well go for it. After a crumpled year with toxic roommates and forming habits that started scaring me, I ended up back in the house I’d risked everything to get out of years before. The list of things I wasn’t diagnosed with yet is long but more than anything I felt stuck, smothered. I would write in spurts then freeze. I couldn’t even read — bookstores were heartbreaks.
What I didn’t realize then was that one of my OCD symptoms was like a brake. If what I set out to do wasn’t going to be perfect, I couldn’t do it. One day I struggled fiercely against it, and another day, after more self-doubt and more frustrations, I wanted to break through — and I won. It just happened, out of equally strong hope and anger.
What I’m saying is not
That art solved my problems but instead
That the strength I found through creating and through fighting back still pushes me forward.
Welcome to Queer IRL, a monthly Autostraddle community photo series that gathers little clips of lesbian, bisexual, queer and otherwise-identified women, trans and non-binary folks, just living our lives in 2017.
I recognize that the guidelines for this gallery might have felt like a little too much for some readers, and I get that. Like what if you spend your Friday night in your kitchen or your bedroom?? Because you already sent those pictures, sooooo. Or maybe you’d have to announce to a whole group of people that you needed to take a quick pic for this community gallery on this website (and then define ‘community gallery’ and also answer “why is it called Autostraddle??”), and that just seemed like a lot. I get it! So just fair warning, this gallery is smaller than the last two were, but! It’s still everything good on this planet: us just being us, right now.
I hope you enjoy this journey through what we were all doing on a Friday night in the world! If you look through this today and wish you’d submitted, I’ll accept late submissions through Sunday night and update the gallery on Monday. (See details on the last page.)
“I’m hanging out with my best friend, my Person, the human I love most in this world – Melissa – and my pup MC Sprout, on my last Friday night before I move six hours away. This night would be fantastic even if we were just hanging out at home.”
“Spent my Friday night with my wifey and best friend, greeting and meeting people at my first ever art gallery show, where I was lucky to display some of my creations!! It was just a small local art center, but it is a small step towards my dreams!”
“Treat Yo’ Self night: I exfoliated, moisturized, changed my sheets, lit a candle, journaled, and called my girlfriend for a long-distance date night. I am the dark blob in the corner of the FaceTime screen, trying to get a good angle and hide my nudity.”
“A typical Friday night with my dog Akila watching Netflix/catching up on emails. This was our first Friday night together after I spent a month backpacking and working on an organic farm in Europe.”
“My girlfriend (left) and I spent our Friday night at Meow Wolf, a huge, intricate art installation in a former bowling alley in Santa Fe. We admired the art, and found several clandestine make-out spots inside.”
“I teach a group fitness class at my gym on Friday nights, so this is me prepping for it with the help of my cat-friend Zuzu. I had to coerce him this time but normally he winds around my legs and yells at me or flops down right where I’m trying to step, so I figured he owed me one.”
“I took this picture on my way out the door to see The Pretenders and Stevie Nicks. Chrissie Hynde sang the Tom Petty part of “Stop Dragging My Heart Around” with Stevie, and I never knew I had wanted anything so badly.”
“My best friend and I having one of those perfect nights with lots of laughter and love, enjoying the pleasures of being with someone who’s known you through so much.”
“Still living with my parents, so Friday night is… quiet. It’s the only night where I have the time to really practice my trumpet. Then I read a feminist book with my Totoro cushion, which is the recipe for happiness.”
There are freelance creatives who will take every job that comes their way, enjoying the challenge of turning their hand to an infinite range of projects. Then there are those who carve out a niche to suit themselves – an ideal client, a field, a genre that lights them up, and in which they have something really special to contribute.
Soof Andry is the second kind. As a graphic designer and illustrator, they didn’t spend long working in a corporate environment before deciding to break free and follow their own path. Now an established freelance designer, Soof specialises in social justice projects, often with a queer, feminist and/or radical focus. Their bold yet tender and accessible illustrations have given depth and life to diverse projects from radical community initiatives to magazines. A punk at heart, Soof also publishes zines and poetry (check out the brilliant ‘Bloody Hell‘, a forthright zine on experiences of menstruation) and – most excitingly for me – a tarot deck!
In this interview for Follow Your Arrow, Soof shares their journey from newly-qualified graphic designer to anarcho-punk freelance creative, exploring the paradox that is ‘niching without borders’: focusing the kind of work you most love to do without getting boxed in or typecast. We also discuss productive mornings, the inevitability of burnout when you’re finding your groove, and the creative freedom a second income can provide.
Photograph by Krishanthi Jeyakumar
Hi Soof! Can you introduce your work? What’s your mission? Who do you serve?
I do a handful of things, its really hard to sum up in an umbrella terms sometimes. I design, I teach, I lecture, run workshops, do writing, I organise events, I’m into radical self-publishing, activism and so much more. First and foremost, though, I’m a graphic designer by trade.
I’ve been freelancing since I left uni years ago. I generally work with clients from the cultural, arts and activist sector. That could be anything from branding and visual identity work, or book and editorial design to illustrations and consultation stuff. I like to mix up things with writing, activism, and teaching too, I’ve been teaching at a university in London for about three years now, I find that feeds into practice really well and visa versa.
Generally in life all I want to do is: good work for good causes with good people. I want to be a good designer, I mean truly, deeply good at my craft; everything else is semantics, I guess?
How would you describe your approach to self-employment or business? What personal qualities inform your approach?
Professional Anarchist? Executive Anarchist? Something along those lines.
I’m winging it on the whole and that approach has worked out well for me. Although to wing it, and wing it well there’s a lot of hard work, commitment, perseverance, resistance and enthusiasm needed. I always tended to do my own thing and crave my own path both personally and professionally, so this has really set up me up for being freelancer, designer and creative of all sorts. It worked out to my favour.
A personal project, Radical Softness is a poetry zine exploring self-love, PTSD and resistance.
What does a typical day look like for you? Do you have a routine? What is your workspace like?
Typical workday varies depending on what I’m doing. If I’m lecturing, its an early start and a commute into London. I teach at a design school in North Greenwich; I specialise in graphic design there. It’s interesting, fast-paced, keeps me on my toes. You really have to be able to think on your feet, connect dots quickly and genuinely know what you’re talking about and your industry to do that well.
If I’m working on client work or working on my own stuff, I work from home. It took me a while to get the set-up just right – it slowly fell into place and now I can be pretty productive and really work to my flow. My usual day kicks off around 8.30. I’m an early morning person and get a lot more done early on in the day than I do later on, so try to set up days up to work with this. I go through my emails, answer or avoiding answering stuff. Have breakfast and browse Twitter and Instagram. These have proven to be invaluable tools for my work, both in terms on input and output, and makes the lonely freelancer life much softer.
I normally plan a week ahead with work, so I’ll crack on with whatever I’ve got booked in. During the morning I’ll have a podcast on the background, this really helps me focus. I tend to jump between my room, and living room in terms of spaces to work. The living room has lots of natural light in the morning and its normally quiet and cleaner than my desk. I rarely work at desk.
Photograph by Krishanthi Jeyakumar
When did you know that this was what you wanted to do?
For ever and ever! I’ve always been a ‘maker’ and constantly producing content. As a kid I was the most content sat on sofa with an entire 500-sheet ream of print paper drawing and sketching cartoons from the TV. When I wasn’t drawing I’d be rallying my siblings and organising ‘protests’ and ‘petitions’ for pizza for dinner. 20-odd years later it feels like mirror of the things I’m doing now.
What were your early goals, your first steps?
When I first started out I wanted to work for the ‘biggest and best’ design agency in the world. It wasn’t till about a few years I realised how toxic that idea was. Design is very corporate. I’ve worked in agencies and ad agencies and found that it wasn’t for me. The more corporate it got, the more overwhelming I found it; for me, design lost it soul.
I wanted to make good work, and channel as much activism into it as possible, and those sorts of environments weren’t the space. So I thought fuck it, I started working for smaller agencies and studios, taking on my clients and not being afraid to do the stuff I love. I was lucky that I had the steady income from teaching graphic design, that let me be a bit more critical and self-serving with some of the work I took on. It worked out in the end, I’m getting more of the type of clients I want and not just boxing myself in.
Photograph by Krishanthi Jeyakumar
Why do you do this?
A lot of this happened because I was keen to push myself out of ‘just being a designer’. I love it, I’m great at it, but I’m also good at other things. Being freelance, having multiple side-hustles, and being an anarchist in approach and thought all really feed into this. I do lots of things like speaking at universities across the country, self-publishing multiple books and zines (which have sold hundreds of copies), writing for magazines and newspapers on stuff I care about and channelling activism into a multitude of things. Working with people and clients and organisation that are doing incredible work is really fulfilling.
What makes you spring out of bed in the morning?
The thought of fully automated luxury communism and avocado on toast.
What’s the best thing about the work you do?
Doing it all yourself. I have a lot autonomy and control of the things I do, my hours and type of work I take on. It’s a real privilege to be able to work like that, and I’m lucky to have find that flow and equilibrium on in my career. I’m sure there’ll be things and opportunities which disrupt it, but in the best of ways in the future, but for now I value the agency I have over my practice.
And the worst?
Doing it all yourself. Being an one-person-all-singing-all-dancing-all glitter riot can be really exhausting and overwhelming at times. So I’m being trying to be really self-aware and not take on to much, sticking to my anarcho-punk ethos as much as I can.
Soof worked on the Comics In Schools project which helped young people find a voice through comics and illustration.
What are the key challenges you face in your work? What are your tactics for overcoming these?
Early on in my career I took on a lot of work and said to yes everything, was was great and opened a lot of doors but I ended up working on things I didn’t care about and weren’t my vibe. I worked for corporate companies and ended up making bland work. But over the years I’ve learnt to be more critical, saying no is just as important as saying yes. I have a checklist; to get on my books, you have to check off at least two of the following: Is its meaningful work? Is it an area I want to go into or work on more? Is it paid well? Occasionally a project will check all three, and I know I’m onto a winner.
How do you approach time management?
Planning! I have a Midori planner which I love more than anything, inside it I have a week by week view plus a month by month which lets me plan out work, clients, bookings and social stuff. There’s something really satisfying about giving yourself life-admin days once a month to sort your shit out. Coloured coded highlighters and post notes are where its at, mate.
And what about work-life balance?
I burnt out a quite a lot. Work can end up coming in weird waves of all or nothing, occasionally steady flows but I tend to take on a lot more than I shout; say yes now and try to find the time later.
I’ve found my cycle of productivity after a lot of trial and error. I work extensively for a few weeks solid and ride the wave of productivity until I’m exhausted, then give myself a week and bit off from everything. Everything. I just take a break. I’ve found this is working well for me at the moment. Having said that, I’m always mixing up and changing my approach to working managing the burnout.
Photograph by Krishanthi Jeyakumar
Does your work feel financially sustainable? And how do you feel generally about the money side of ‘following your arrow’?
I’m not a millionaire. Logistically, I’ve found having a part-time job or client or something in the background helps. A steady income enables me to take on risker, more creative and often more rewarding work. I lecture one (maybe two) days a week, this is my steady income. So I know that if worst comes to worst I have that money coming in.
Other work, like side-hustles, tend to flow in and out, some pay shit, some pay well, but that’s a judgement I make based on the client, work, project and potential to take on. As a general rule, I don’t work for free (and you shouldn’t either: you labour is of value and you should be treated as such). The only time I do work for free is for activist, underfunded, do-good types that are doing brilliant work that I want to support and be a part of; I normally approach them or we have an existing relationship.
Where would you like to see yourself in five, ten years’ time?
You sound like my Mum. I don’t know. Loosely I’d like to still be designing, and doing what I am now. I want to start taking on some installation design work; I’ve only dabbled but it’d be nice to work on it properly. I really enjoy lecturing on everything about feminism, gender, anarchism and more. Last year I lectured all over the country which was great; more of that would nice to sandwich in.
I’d like to keep self-publishing. I’ve done a few zines, a poetry book, and I want to put of a few more (I’ve some in the works already!) I’d also like to collaborate more outside of my discipline. I’ve started working with a few designers and collectives with friends and its a really nurturing and enlightening experience, so I’d like more of that!
How do you market your business?
I use social media a lot but not to actively ‘promote’ or ‘market’ myself, but more to be part of a community of designers, creatives and activists. I’ve gotten work through that but more as a nice by product rather than the end goal. Marketing isn’t my thing; for me, self-promotion, sharing, building communities through work and social media is far more powerful.
What’s the most valuable tool in your kit?
My laptop. This isn’t unique or special but hands down my Mac is most my important tool. Teamed with Adobe Creative Suite, wifi and a decent text editor (I like writing in iAWriter) I’m unstoppable: I have my entire life, work and everything that I do. If it wasn’t for my laptop I wouldn’t be able to produce anything with the speed, efficiency, level and platform that I do.
Illustration work for Base Publication
How does being LGBTQ impact on your business (if at all)?
A lot of my work tends to be in cultural, arts and activist sector, so a lot it naturally addresses that. I try to make my work as inclusive and representative as possible, for example I’m working on a tarot deck at the moment which is all-femme, all-POC, all-80s vibes deck; its all about representation. I’ve also been really luck to work on projects and clients who are doing good work and social change with LGBTQIA+ communities. For example I worked on a project within University College London’s Urban Laboratory, by Nightlife Spaces. Their aim is to build an evidence base to document the presence of existing and past LGBTQI spaces in order to understand the value of these spaces for LGBTQI and wider communities, and to the cultures and heritage of London. It was so amazing, there was so much research put into this project; I worked on the visual identity and thought it was a really good process, for fantastic clients.
What three websites, blogs, books or people do you rate for business advice or ideas about your work?
My best pal Sarah lent me a book called The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k and it came at such a good time: I’d taken on a massive new role with my teaching, was feeling really stressed and overwhelmed, and Sarah passed me this hardback over a hot a chocolate and it really resonated.
Podcasts, I love podcasts. I listen to them while I work (listening to one right now as I type this) and just before I go to bed. One I find that helps me focus and get in the flow is Beautiful Stories From Anonymous People. It’s so intimate, it’s like an hour of listening in to a phone call with an anonymous person, and they share such depth and important parts of their lives, relationships, work and so much more. It helps me keep perspective when work gets too much.
Inclusive Mosque gets a shout. We’re currently working on a rebrand, and they’re an amazing space, they’ve achieved so much in the few years they’ve been running and are so inspiring. Inclusive Mosque is an inclusive spiritual space, actively welcoming women, LGBTQIA+ people, disabled people, and many others with marginalised identities.
Photograph by Krishanthi Jeyakumar
What’s your hot tip for queer folks who want to start their own business?
Do it your way. It’s a really liberating experience: you can finally make your own rules and hours and type of work. Enjoy that! If you love early mornings, work early mornings. If you can’t get out bed till 10am, only have meetings and calls scheduled for post-lunch. Do it your way, do it for yourself, and be as punk rock about this as you can.
You can view Soof’s gorgeous portfolio at soofiya.com, and keep up with them on Twitter and Instagram!
I recently had the pleasure of spending a day with the amazing Adrienne “Madam” Muse, an LA-based artist and all-around inspirational creator. When she isn’t painting, she’s working on her YouTube show, Her Wife and Kids with — you guessed it — her amazing wife and kids.
“I am a self-taught visual artist… I began ‘doodling’ as a hobby prior to becoming a working artist. In 2012, I had an epiphany! What I once viewed only as a ‘stress reliever,’ I had grown to realize, was swiftly becoming my passion. With an aspiration to inspire, I use bold art to reflect pop culture. My inspiration for creating art is to awaken and enlighten the soul for creative growth. I took a leap of faith into becoming an artist when I made the decision to stop working in Corporate America. After I married my wife of now three years, battling homelessness and experiencing life as a queer woman, my perspective shifted. I’ve vowed to live the rest of my life as an inspiration to others through my work, while encouraging others to follow their dreams.”
We started at YouTube Space LA, where Muse, her wife, Janeeka, and kids film their show.
Madam Muse and Janeeka
“We wanted to show that queer families of color exist and thrive and laugh and love. In a world where that takes courage every single day, we felt that we would open our lives a little bit and share our world. We really wanted to encourage and inspire other queer families to be themselves and to be fearless! Live in your truth.”
Asia, 15 and an aspiring filmmaker, ops the camera
and Aliyah, 13, wants to be a performer and celebrity makeup artist.
“[Working with my family is] pretty hilarious. Raising two teen girls keeps me inspired actually. My wife and I are very involved in their life and we share a lot. My family inspires my art in a lot of cases. Working with them is the joy of my day. I want [Asia and Aliyah] to always remember this lesson — that they are capable of manifesting anything into their lives that they desire.”
When you check out their show, you’ll see that they’re both well on their way.
Lunch break at Vegan Glory in Los Angeles, their daily haunt
Muse spends most of her time in her Fairfax studio. Until two years ago, she had only worked with pencil. Then she picked up a paintbrush for the second time. The only other time she painted was in the third grade, which ended with Muse winning the school state art award.
“My art goals are to create larger bodies of work on canvas, murals and ample studio space to implement community outreach while expressing my love for the visual arts. I want to make art that inspires the viewer to look within themselves to create a better life for everyone.”
“I’m inspired mostly by the oppressed — queers, people of color, women, muslims, etc. — I am constantly wanting to fight for freedom. My art allows me to do that. My subjects are usually based on that idea. I dream about them. Then I think about color schemes. I love bold colors and how they can play against each other.”
Janeeka often times works with Muse in her art studio.
“Over the last year or so, [Janeeka] sat in the studio with me and literally watched me paint each painting. She started to pick up on the technique. I began teaching her and we have been painting together since. We usually discuss the next painting together in bed the night before. We agree on the subject and then just begin. We create the next layers, each layer adding or subtracting our individual details to bring the entire piece together.”
“I use my art as a form of activism. I want my art to convey pride and courage, fearlessness through bold color. Creatively, this IS the time for artists to rise and do our part. To quote the great Nina Simone, ‘An artist’s duty, is to reflect the times.'”
Downstairs of the studio is the Ninth Chapter Barbershop with all female barbers, which showcases Muse’s work. They also talked about some exciting upcoming collaborative events, so stay tuned. And if you’re in LA and need a clean-up, roll through. (You might even spot Muse herself.)
Muse wants everyone to know that art has saved her life.
“I am a big advocate for mental health. I’ve managed to overcome a crises-induced-depression; art has truly saved my life.”
Follow her on Instagram and stay tuned for an art show this summer, paint nights in LA, and lots of new content dropping on Her Wife and Kids.
Welcome to Queer IRL, a monthly Autostraddle community photo series that gathers little clips of lesbian, bisexual, queer and otherwise-identified women, trans and non-binary folks, just living our lives in 2017.
Our second gallery is Queer in the Bedroom! About 170 people submitted this time around and I’m obsessed with all of you. Remember the feeling of seeing your new friend’s bedroom for the first time — like there’s a whole entire world in there and they’re letting you into it? That’s how this gallery feels. I just want to look out all of your windows and stare up at your ceilings and spend 50 years with your bookshelves.
Thanks for letting us into your personal spaces! It was truly a privilege.
“My cats, my plants and I all deeply enjoy the sunspot that falls right across my bed.”
“Before leaving for college last August, I’d lived my entire life between the same four yellow walls, with the same blue and yellow floral bedspread, and the same conservative parents overseeing my decor. This little corner of a dorm room is the first space I’ve had to decorate as mine alone, and so I decided to fill it with colors and objects that make me happiest–letters, art, plants, and of course, yellow.”
“My tiny room is the smallest in the house but one wall has shelves and one wall is a pinboard so that makes up for it. I have far more sticky notes than any one person needs, and my favourite things in my room are my Pop Vinyl figures of Dana Scully and Willow Rosenberg.”
“I just moved back home after going away for university and living abroad for 8 months, and I have plans to keep traveling, so I like the map above my bed to remind me of where I’ve been and where I’m going. This room was a junk room last week, but when I moved back I totally cleaned it up and made it my own (again).”
“My bedroom is my sanctuary; a place that just mine in a otherwise communal living-space. My favorite item in the room is either my Klimt-Cow that lives in my bookcase (given to me by my mom when I moved out), or my papasan chair I recently found after wanting one for years.”
“I wanted to show off my huge collection of posters/postcards/wall decor – my favorite thing about this room/ Also it’s blizzarding here right now so that’s fun.”
“My room is my little creative retreat in the midst of the loud, chaotic reality of my house. My favorite things in my room right now are probably the two voodoo prints on the nightstand- they reflect my morbid obsession with love and death and are always a good inspiration.”
“I am not allowed to paint in my apartment, and in the Bay Area I am nervous about disobeying my landlord cuz there’s really nowhere else to go. But I couldn’t stand living in an off-white apartment any longer so one day I taped up hundreds of pieces of pink printer paper. it immediately improved my life. I found this map in a freebox. It’s a road map from 1990 and I hung it over my bed because it makes me want to go everywhere.”
“The last thing I think of before falling asleep is Harry Potter, because I literally fall asleep reading it every single night to ward off my anxiety. The first things I think of when I wake up are these two angel-pit bull hybrids, mostly because they both sleep on top of me.”
“This is my fourth bedroom in as many months, but if I’ve got my Shabbat candles and my mic it’s home.”
“I hate clutter. I bought this bed when I first tried to escape, and could fit all of my belongings into eight bankers boxes. I sleep on it now that I’m back – two times over – because the memory of being thirteen under this roof doesn’t leave room for anything bigger.”
“I live in a pretty conservative town and I’m not at all out here, so my one-room flat is my queer sanctuary. I surround myself with pictures and trinkets that remind me of my favourite humans and my community. The best part of my room is definitely my little spoon Sushi, even when he’s dive-bombing my toes at four in the morning and breaking lamps.”
“My room reflects the place I am in my life, the creative and personal freedom I had at uni vs the scary adult working world now that I’m back home. It’s small but home is where you put Jillian Holtzmann pop funko figure.”
“Our tiny house bedroom isn’t made yet, but I already love it. It is approximately one inch bigger than a mattress and has a ceiling height carefully calculated to allow for various types of bedroom activity (some carefully). My cats are not currently in this bedroom, but they will be soon and they have no idea how cosy and wonderful it’s going to be. The last thing I think of at night is my rotator cuff, which is damaged from too much DIY.”
“Hawaii has these tiny invasive frogs called coquis, named after the super loud mating calls they make at night. When I first moved here, the sound would keep me awake, but now it’s one of my favorite things about falling asleep. There’s also a river that goes through my backyard. I love being able to hear that at night too”
“Dream vs reality. In the seconds it took me to reset the cam timer every pet decided this was THE time to get on the bed. Best aspect of room: window (obv not pictured) faces a bird feeder that also attracts deer, raccoons, and opossum. Deer bonk their heads on it to shake seeds loose. Nature!”
“Even though I’m in a dorm, this is the first double bed I’ve ever had and I excitedly shopped for coordinated bedding months before I moved in. I spend a lot of time in bed (depression + your girlfriend being 1300 miles away + not having an actual apartment will do that) and I wanted to surround myself with comforting things– you can see my stuffed animals, and the little altar I made with my goddess tarot and a statue of the Virgin Mary.”
“My favourite thing about my room is the view I have of the lake. This is the view in a much different season than we’re in now, as you may have deduced based on the presence of my snowshoes.”
“As a kid, my room was a mass of conflict between trying to be who I was “supposed” to be, and wanting to be myself. As an adult, I have created a sanctuary that is filled only with things that bring me joy and reflect self love. My favorite things are my teddy bear – the only thing from my childhood that I’ve kept, and the art I painted that hangs on the walls. The quotes above my desk inspire me to write like I’m running out of time. The Four Seasons paintings above my bed remind me that the sun comes up and the world still spins. And my cat reminds me to take a break.”
“Michelle’s favorite item in the room is Barbar the Elephant (bottom right). Emma’s favorite item is either the boob pillow Michelle gave her for hannukah this year, or the hanging plant I stole from my office. Giles’ favorite item is Michelle’s pillow (not the one with boobs, the normal one that she sleeps on).”
“I have always loved my bedroom, but this one is especially important because it is my first room post grad in my first apartment ever. My favorite thing about my room is how much of everything in it has been given and made with love. Also the plants. Also the cemetery view.”
“When I first moved into this house, it felt too big and lonely. My girlfriend is currently living across the country (although you can see her “shrine” on the bookshelf on the left). In the fall though, I adopted my dog Beau. Now I have a live-in snuggle buddy and there are constantly paw prints all over my blankets and bedsheets.”
“I live with my partner but we sleep apart due to having vastly different schedules, so my bed has become a kind of a dump. I’m writing my honours thesis so this is where I try to destress whenever I get a chance. That’s why I have 6-9 books and every gadget possible within arm’s reach at all times, plus two consoles and a TV out of frame. The thing I love most about my room is the blackout curtains, which let me sink into perfect darkness whenever I need to sleep, no matter what time of day it actually is! Perfect for someone who works odd hours like me.”
“My top five favorite things in this space are as follows: 1. The nugget o’ cat currently cold shouldering the camera. 2. Beloved dick in a jar. 3. The lopsided collage of Iceland vacation photos. 4. The Victorian lace curtains, circa 2015 Ikea. 5. The craigslist dresser that nearly broke my foot.”
I’ve answered the question of
“what inspired you to start this series?”
to white people, to the amazing participants, to online followers.
So now instead I’ll insert some snapshots
like
the one of my mother, her facial features worrying her. Her eyes critical but still absorbed in magazines with pages and pages of homogenous paleness. The family trips to Ecuador where our relatives bake their skin in the sun. Except the darker skinned ones, the ones affectionately nicknamed “negrito” — they stay out of the brightness. Something they grew up with, they say they don’t want to look too dark.
I visit a queer bookstore, joyful, the first place I understood I wasn’t a man or a woman with the magazines they had. But I visit this time knowing more, expectations higher. I open one of the featured queer photography books and see what androgyny means to some people, what queerness can get twisted into. Thin, Masculine, White. Though I’m a thin white in-between person myself, this is a splinter in my skin. My niece shows me her Instagram feed and I see no one like her looking back at me. The people I love have fleeting reflections in the media. I started organizing a series on femmes and genderqueer folx of color in the city because I feel like diversity should be celebrated and documented so much more than it is now.
Find laura’s work at omni the ant.
Shades of Burlesque is New York City’s only all-Black burlesque revue. Find Sweet Lorraine’s work at Sweet Lorraine NY and on IG @SweetLorraineNY
Find Vveiss’s work on IG @vveiss66.
Find Ro Sam’s work on Soundcloud and Bandcamp.
Welcome to Queer IRL, a monthly Autostraddle community photo series that gathers little clips of lesbian, bisexual, queer and otherwise-identified women, trans and non-binary folks, just living our lives in 2017.
This very first gallery is Queer in the Kitchen. Nearly 200 of you sent in photos and boy are my arms tired! If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we are an incredibly attractive group of people with lots of cabinets and pets. Oh and that I’ve never loved you more.
I hope you scroll through these many, many pictures (all nine pages!) and feel like FUCK YES, WE ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE AND WE WILL NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT. And I hope you submit photos for the next gallery! (More on February’s theme and deadline soon.) Thank you so so much for making this a thing, you wild and wonderful weirdos.
“I really love my cow mat. I live alone, so I named her Genevieve.”
“The kitchen is also my library.”
“The best things to prepare in my kitchen are witchy salves and oils with my roommate, lots of tea concoctions, coffee so much coffee, and homemade vegan queso. Also it smells like so much cinnamon in there because of ants and because of never wanting to use chemicals! Winter time in the Bay Area!”
“While I’m definitely super excited about those Compost Cookies I’m holding, my favorite dish to prepare has to be Eggplant Rollatini. I always feel like my Nanny and parents are right there with me as I put it all together.”
“I live in a coop on my campus with 13 other people, and I love making food to share with others. I just moved in here this year and was excited to host my annual Friendsgayving in a kitchen that felt like home.”
“I am a huge rage baker, when the systems and constructs of the world matched with the intense vibration of community woes press down on me. As of late I made cookies for the revolution, bourbon banana bread for hope, fruit pies to fuel upstarts to continue to rise up, and had a cookie decorating party for nothing other than because community and chosen family matters. I also cook savory meals in my kitchen, but baking is my passion, and it truly is one of my favorite ways to practice self care.”
“My kitchen is the most inconvenient, undersized, poorly put-together and annoying room in my tiny home…and I love it. I’ve found joy in covering up its damaged walls and cupboards with wild colors, starting a spaghetti noodle collection on the chipped ceiling (you can see one or two in the photo, if you look close), and sitting down at our polka-dot covered table for crowded family meals saturated in love, laughter, fart noises, and political/social/feminist rants.”
“When I first saw a picture of my kitchen in a Naked Apartments listing, I immediately texted my boyfriend (I’m bi but in a relationship with a man) a picture of the wallpaper saying: “IT’S SO TACKY…. I NEED IT!” It was the first apartment we saw, and we moved in a few days later. We threw an ugly sweater party this past year and I have to say I think my wallpaper won the award for ‘ugliest.'”
“I couldn’t boil a potato before my wife got her hands on me. I tell people my brain is like a well-stocked kitchen, where all the cabinets are open.”
“Alyssa is an amazing chef with a stack of cookbooks a mile high and would be happy if she never ate the same thing twice. I basically make soup and horribly unhealthy things (all the salt, cheese, and spicy you can put together) that we call “bachelor food.” After 5 years of marriage and 4 years in SLC, we just bought our first house a few months ago. The house is microscopic so the kitchen and living room are one big room. We love that the two rooms we use the most are now together (meaning we can watch the Cubs play while we cook).”
“I really like cooking dishes with lots of ingredients. The more small bowls filled with chopped veggies and spices all around me, the happier I am.”
“My favorite thing to do in the kitchen is to sautée EVERY DAMN THING.”
“What this photo doesn’t capture is the smell of a hair tie burning on the bottom of my oven (how did a hair tie make it into my oven?!) and the sound of the fan trying blow away the burning hair tie smell.
PS – Like the anonymous question-asker in Some Answers to Some Things You’ve Been Asking Us #10, I didn’t know where to put my A+ sticker. I took Yvonne’s suggestion and went with the toaster.”
“Most prized kitchen item is the spice rack.”
“I love cooking for family and friends — especially things they’ve never had before, so I can surprise them and let them in on something great that I’ve discovered.”
“I fell in love with someone in this kitchen. Now, I’m learning how to be alone again.”
“This kitchen is the main reason we got the place. I’m a pretty casual person and not confident as a cook, so I’ll usually make some kind of chicken and rice (if it’s not a frozen Trader Joe’s dinner). My most prized kitchen item(s) are the dishes I inherited from my 98 year old grandmother.”
“Winter weekends usually mean braised meats and some combination of butter + flour + cinnamon. You can just see the top of it in the bottom right here, but our portable dishwasher is probably our most prized kitchen possession — we call it our robot butler.”
“I love my kitchen especially in the late afternoon when the sun is just beginning to mellow. Beer tastes better and chocolate chip cookies smell sweeter here. It’s the cat hair.”
“My favorite thing to prepare is something that shows off my skills making something fancy out of super “humble” ingredients, like dumpster-dived kale or chicken organ meat. Examples: latte with foam and cinnamon dust WITHOUT espresso maker OR frother, or kheema paratha with only stuff I get from the discount veggie bin at the co-op and some pantry basics.
I didn’t take out the trash or recycling for this photo, and those pretty curtains in the window are actually in the window of our across-the-alleyway neighbors (also a queer household) #radicaltransparency”
Making a New Year’s vision board is basically pulling intentions from your subconscious and turning them into art that you can check in with for the rest of the year. We spent some time making vision boards for 2017 because we needed the therapy. And the hope.
Share your 2017 vision board!
Upload your vision board to imgur (or anywhere on the internet that hosts images), right click (on a Mac, control+click), hit ‘Copy Image URL’ and then code it in to your comment like so:
Happy New Year!
Can you make a living as an artist? Sarah Faith Gottesdiener is determined to find out. A lifelong creative and the person behind feminist apparel brand Modern Women, Sarah decided a few years ago that her artistic talents were put to better use making functional, saleable items that challenge the patriarchal paradigm on the street, than hanging in galleries. Four years back she became fully self-employed, and she now earns a sustainable living via several different streams: freelance design work, writing, her online store, and by offering tarot readings and workshops…yet as she says, she looks forward to the days she will be able to paint and create art freely once again, a dilemma I think many creative freelancers face.
In this frank and insightful interview, Sarah explains the ideological motivations that lie behind her work, and discusses the huge leap of faith and perspective that it takes to begin working for yourself, with all of the financial risks involved. She tells us about her personal goals, her philosophy around staying small despite the pressures of capitalism, and how ‘work-life balance’ is pretty much a unicorn. She also shares with us some of the biggest challenges she faces both as an artist and a person with a chronic illness. As a fellow creative entrepreneur, I found Sarah’s story to be motivating, inspiring and encouraging. I hope you will too.
Photo by Nancy Neil Photography
Hi Sarah! Can you introduce your business in a paragraph? What’s your mission? Who do you serve?
Hi! I’m a solo freelancer. I started out as a freelancer designer and adjunct professor four years ago, determined to make a living on my own. After two years teaching at three different colleges I quit, as I was barely making ends meet teaching at very expensive universities for pennies. My focus became one part working for others, one part working for myself. For all of my entire twenties I had various amazing and not so amazing roles in the creative industry, but always fantasized about working for myself. Now my old fantasy has become my current reality, and is both incredibly dreamy at times and way more challenging than working for others ever was!
My apparel serves awesome people fed up with the dominant patriarchal paradigm. I offer products that strive to act as feminist propaganda, as a reality disruption. They also serve as identity markers to those wearing them, it ends up being a common story people tell. Others stop them and say “I love your top!” A friend wearing a top of mine texted me the other day thanking me as when she wears the shirt she gets less street harassment. Small victories!
My mission with my spiritual work is to empower others, to inspire people to live deeply, take risks, and transform in the spirit of service to one’s higher path. I offer different tools in that realm: my intuitive Tarot readings, my Many Moons Workbook, Tarot and manifesting workshops, and blog posts. As investing in my own spiritual life and practices have helped me overcome trauma, anxiety, depression, self-destructive behaviors, I feel the drive to help others, particularly those who are queer, femme, women-identified, trans or gender-nonconforming. I believe that when you help others, you help yourself. When you live your life in an authentic fashion, you inspire others as well.
How would you describe your approach to business? What personal qualities inform your approach?
I’m an artist who got an MFA in design. I decided to become a designer so I could make money. As someone who has worked since I was 13 and must support myself, I often feel like I don’t have the luxury to be an artist, even though I can’t wait to introduce painting back into my life. I have never taken a business class in my life. Math gives me hives. My goals have always been small: make x amount an hour, then x amount a month. To pay my gargantuan monthly student loan debt by selling weird feminist gear? It seemed like an awesome joke on the universe.
Having exceeded all my old goals and manifestations, I’m currently in a stage of figuring out what my next steps are. It involves giving myself the time and space to recalibrate and reconfigure. I don’t have a map, there aren’t a lot of trustworthy people in my life I can talk to about business, so things always feel a bit unnatural.
Working in very competitive, prominent, fast-paced offices and agencies in my twenties offered the incredible opportunity to see how ‘successful’ and ‘ambitious’ people operate. This was invaluable: what I learned about time-management, project management, communicating with clients all stems from that almost decade of working internally for companies. I have a very professional manner when working with clients. My role, the quality, and deadlines are taken very seriously. I never forget – whether I’m designing a logo, mailing out a T-shirt, or giving a Tarot reading – that wonderful people trust me with something precious.
Some of Sarah’s personal design work
What does a typical day look like for you? Do you have a routine?
I wish I had a typical day! In general, my weeks work around my clients’ needs and on various deadlines. For example, today I designed client work in the morning from home for a few hours, then spent about fur hours mailing out orders, then finished out the day with a client call/brief for another project.
I’m trying to get better at setting boundaries with myself and my work, as well as batching days, for example, having just one day be for writing, one day for designing. Obviously life doesn’t always work like that, but it is something to strive for. It is one of my current goals.
What kind of things do you actually do?
Here’s a probably-impartial list of my tasks: I design for all types of clients (mostly in beauty, lifestyle, and fashion/apparel sectors), I project-manage, do concepting and research as well, create invoices (do my own accounting/billing – FUN), I design things for my own products (mostly posters, tees, and totes), I write both for my books and my own blog. I create content for my site and my Instagram account. I market, process, and ship out all orders for my online shop and work with other stores that my goods wholesale at, I read Tarot cards for clients, and I design, conceptualize, and teach original content for workshops on spiritual/metaphysical topics, such as working with the cycles of the Moon, and all sorts of Tarot topics. And, of course, I spend way too much time emailing!
How many hours a week do you spend working on your business?
An average week is between 35 and 70 hours of work. Sometimes I work six days a week, sometimes less. This is not counting all the time I am talking and thinking about my various projects.
What is your workspace like?
I work from home in my kitchen most of the time, and spend a couple days a week in a studio. I’ll be moving everything to my studio soon. I’ve been reticent to leave my elderly dog and access to food anytime I want: I’m snacking all the time! Also I like to take breaks and walk my dog. I rent space out of the Women’s Center for Creative Work, that’s where I keep my products and do my shipping.
Sarah’s studio
When did you know that this was what you wanted to do? And what were your early goals, your first steps?
After working in the creative industry as a project manager and art-director and seeing what designers made and did, I figured out that’s what I wanted to do. (This was on top of working 40 hours a week, then going home and making art until midnight, and being in various bands, sometimes DJing, yet making barely anything off of my creative pursuits.)
My answer was to take out a huge amount of debt and get an MFA in design at a fancy, yet completely nightmarish graduate program. After graduating I decided to dive right in and instead of getting a ‘job’ as before, to start trying to get my own clients. A big dream was teaching; that was where the MFA came in. (I had a childhood dream of being a college professor, teaching students about art and design.) I taught for two years before realizing it was most likely not going to go anywhere.
It was hard to quit teaching, as I truly love it and am a very good professor, but it didn’t make dollars or sense. Teaching three-four classes at three different colleges only just covered my basic expenses, so I had to freelance on top of it to be able to save anything, or pay for a pet surgery or car emergency. All aspects of my health were suffering from this, so I quit teaching at the college level and focused more on working for clients and myself. Teaching workshops gives me the same kind of joy as being a professor did, so I try to teach those frequently.
I’ve always been attracted to the sort of blue-collar, functional aspect to design. Multiples are inexpensive (as compared to say, a painting) and as design is work out in the world, it can make much more of an impact than work in a gallery, only seen potentially by a few privileged folks. There’s a specific sort of pride I get when I see my work in the world, even if it’s not exactly the most chic. A shampoo bottle I designed years ago was randomly in a friend’s bathroom, and I got all excited like the nerd I am!
Ideally I’d be an artist just doing what I like some of the time, and some of the time taking on dreamy design clients that are a good fit. I always have an itch to design really awesome things, and I really like working with interesting, intelligent, and open people.
One of Sarah’s iconic sweatshirts
The tees and sweatshirts I make started really organically and small and then really exploded for a while. I’m scaling back a bit on that realm; I’m trying to figure out what to do with that. Capitalism really pushes us to like, MAKE MORE, DO MORE, SELL SELL SELL etc. It teaches us that if something is going really well aka generating money, to keep doing it and make it bigger etc. And I’m questioning that. Staying small has benefits, so I’m currently trying to define what exactly that means for me. Creativity is really important to me, and I’ve not had as much time to just be creative for pleasure or fun. I literally have like 100 different ideas that I’ve not been able to do anything with because I haven’t really had any time to sketch them through.
This fall has been about questioning my motives big-picture. Other people were really telling me to push my goods but I’m thinking about what will make me happiest on the daily. Ultimately I’m happiest when I am creative and connected, when I’m exploring, flexing my brain, being challenged and growing. I need to scale back on the things that aren’t allowing for that creativity to come forth, or reconfigure it. If I was making hand over fist obviously I’d hire someone to do all my shipping, but sales are very up and down. People see I sell stuff, because my stuff is out in the world, and they think I’m like, on a boat eating sushi every night but there’s great months and dry months. I don’t make my sole living selling products.
I’m really asking myself to narrow in and define ‘success’ for myself, what that looks like, feels like, and resembles. It has a lot to do with overall health, flow, ease, and joy. For a long time I postponed joy, and didn’t value ease. Hard work and sacrifice had been ingrained in me, it’s in my DNA. That anxious, survival mode, totally drained adrenals, totally rough on myself. Trying to feel my way through that into love, into a higher mission statement with my work is one of my priorities currently.
I have worked long enough to get to a place where I have the income stream in order to do that. For years it was just nose to the grindstone, hustle for my bills style. Like, are we having lentils and rice for dinner, or beans with rice? It is a true blessing to be able to breathe a little bit, to have the luxury of pause that some savings gives us.
Tarot reading started as a hobby and became a partial income stream fairly effortlessly. It is truly something I enjoy, it is a wonderful place to harness my intuition into. It is my vessel for my intuition, from messages from spirit, from guides and the universe. My empathic abilities previously would hinder me in the world. Anyone who is intuitive, or who is clairsentient or empathic knows what I am talking about. When you take on or feel the emotions of those around you, parties sometimes aren’t just parties and a trip to the grocery store is sometimes not just a trip to the grocery store! In Tarot, I have a beautiful place to put my channelling, to invite in my guides in the service of another alongside spirit.
Word of mouth spreads over time, lots of my clients are from referrals. I do a monthly Tarot day at Otherwild. I owe a lot to Rachel and Brandon from Otherwild, they have been unwaveringly supportive of my work. Rachel encouraged me to make more stuff and told me she’d carry what I make. She’s really a pleasure to work with and an inspiration.
So its been a bit of a journey. Nothing happens overnight.
What’s the best thing about the work you do?
Seeing total inspirational babes wear my stuff, getting to meet incredible and interesting people as a result of my work, knowing that my guidance and insights are helping people, getting to give money away to social justice organizations as a direct result of my work, and having the flexibility of schedule are a mere few of the perks.
And the worst?
It can be incredibly unpredictable. Not having steady income to rely on can certainly ramp up stress levels. Not having a “map” of where to go, because you are drawing it up as you go along, can feel disorientating. Lots of questioning, lots of goals, not enough time.
What are the key challenges you face in your work? What are your tactics for overcoming these?
Challenges? Running three separate businesses with a capitalist-critical mindset, as someone with unmedicated ADD, with absolutely no business experience or acumen has presented me with no challenges.
Just kidding!
The greatest challenge I’ve faced in the past year has also been my biggest gift. Almost a year ago, I was diagnosed with a very rare myeloproliferative disease called Myelofibrosis. In layman’s terms, I have a genetic mutation in the chronic leukemia pool that causes all my blood levels to be off, that is slowly making the insides of my bone marrow scar. When the scarring gets to a certain level, I’ll die. The only known cure is a bone marrow transplant, that has about a 50% success rate. The symptoms are exhaustion, weakness, fatigue, physical pain and inflammation, blood clots, and incurable anemia. I’m on a chemo medication to help slow the disease which adds to my exhaustion levels.
This came after almost a decade of going to various doctors and other practitioners, getting all kinds of tests, spending thousands of dollars on panels. My disease is incredibly rare and almost unheard of in someone as young as me. For ages I couldn’t explain to people how I felt, I just felt like “something very scary is wrong with me”. It was very difficult and isolating trying to explain to medical professionals or friends or family that you are exhausted, and having them think you are hysterical, or a drama queen, because you don’t ‘look’ sick. Getting my diagnosis was the ultimate blessing. It also was scary, depressing, and sobering.
Most of us abstractly think about our demise, but it stays in the back of the mind. In that ‘someday’ territory. To have someone sitting across from you telling you that there is a good chance that you are going to die young, or unexpectedly, or anytime in the near future slowly and painfully…it was the ultimate game changer for me.
My focus has changed completely: anything that brought me undue stress had to go, I could not afford to hold it in my body. Any relationships that were negative or draining, anyone unsupportive of me, any activities that were not supporting my physical health had to be eradicated. A ton of stuff in the past year has been getting cleared out. People will peace out really fast when something like this pops up. It is easier to let go of patterns, habits, objects, when you tangibly accept our impermanence. So of course the amount that I work, and the focus of my work is changing in proportion to my diagnosis.
Its also a bit of a mindfuck to live like I’m going to be around for a long time, because I have hope and faith that I will, that either the disease will progress very slowly, or that the bone marrow transplant will cure me, but also be aware that yes, there is the possibility that my life is going to be cut much shorter than the average span. It is a balancing act between not putting off things I want to do like travel, be more creative, achieve my goals, and live in the present, yet still build my life and make goals as if I’ve got decades to live.
Ultimately it is positive: I’m much more present, I’m much more engaged, I’m a better partner, friend, and worker as a result of this health condition. I don’t feel guilty if I can only physically work for 4 or 5 hours in one day instead of 10 or 12 like I used to. I listen to my body and rest more. But also it is my greatest challenge: how to fit in all my goals, how to leave an intentional legacy?
Sarah in her studio. Photo by Nancy Neil Photography
What about work-life balance? Has your social or family life been impacted by starting your own business?
There’s a lot of sacrifices being made when you work for yourself. I also think the idea of ‘work-life balance’ is kind of a unicorn. In my mind it doesn’t really exist. It is more about keeping yourself healthy, keeping yourself sane, keeping yourself away from burn out.
Years of working 6-7 days a week, missing parties and social time has left me with a permanent case of FOMO (fear of missing out). It is a choice I’ve made – and I need to accept it and hold myself accountable for it, instead of whining or feeling lonely. A lot of my friends work for themselves too, so there’s an understanding there.
I’ve certainly had romantic relationships be impacted or fail as a result of this. One of the reasons why my current partnership is so successful is his inherent understanding that part of my happiness involves working. I enjoy working; it gives me purpose and a sense of well-being besides money in the bank. My partner is also really clear about voicing his needs and concerns: hey, you are working too much, let’s hang out, date night etc. Prioritizing those around you is imperative.
Due to my medical condition, I’ve been putting my health (working out, eating well, meditating, getting a lot of sleep) and my friendships first. For hang-outs, I have to schedule them ahead or they will not happen. For health, I need to prioritize this, make them non-negotiable in my schedule or they will not happen.
Can you tell us about your financial side of your business, how you started out and where you are now?
My first year, I made so little I qualified for social services (food stamps, MediCal, etc.). My second year I made what I had earned at an agency 5 years prior. My third year I made a smidge more than I had made working my highest paying, most wonderful, cushiest design job. My fourth year I made more money than I have ever made in my life, actually exceeding my manifestation goals. I’m not sure what this current year holds just yet, as I’ve been working less and I rarely look at my numbers until tax time is upon me.
I don’t believe in taking out debt for your business, after taking out so much debt for my undergrad education and grad school. I call my credit card my trust fund, and I try not to go over a $2k balance!
As a freelancer, my goal is to have about 3-6 months’ living in savings, and I almost have that. Not going into panic mode over rent money is truly priceless! Feeling like a there’s bit of breathing room is one of my main goals as a freelancer.
How do you feel about the money side of ‘following your arrow’?
These are such good, complicated questions! It would take a book to answer them. I had no idea starting out how much ‘work’ would actually be encompassed by ‘working for yourself’. Romanticizing a freelancer’s lifestyle was a ridiculous mistake that I made. However, had I not had such high expectations I may not have worked so hard in the beginning.
Not realizing how long it would take to be financially ok was a big mistake. I would tell anyone now to have six to nine month’s worth of savings before deciding to work for themselves (I had three months of savings.)
‘Following your arrow’, especially if you are someone like me, who does so many different things to make money, can feel pretty disjointed at times. If you are a true artist, the minute you try to make your art/creativity your living, things start feeling a little bit strange. There’s way less separation than clocking into a job…but now it has become a job. There’s also more blocks, knowing more than two people (my partner and my dog) are looking at my stuff. I am the most creative when I psychically, physically, and mentally feel like no one is watching me and I am all alone. Unblocking and moving ahead is a constant struggle of mine.
It is such an incredible feeling doing your taxes, seeing what you made and knowing: “Every penny of this I earned myself, through my own hard work.” It is a very cool feeling.
One thing that’s really nice as well is having a lot of my limiting beliefs about money change. Generating income feels much more elastic, less rigid, filled with potential and possibility now that I’ve worked for myself. For example, if at some point I want to take a ‘job job’ again (as I do sometimes think about), or if I need to take a serving or catering job, like I did for years, I feel fine with that. Because I’ve done so many things for work, because I know things are always changing and turning around, a lot of shame or guilt about the type of work I do has dissipated from when I was younger.
More of Sarah’s art
And the future? Where would you like to see yourself in five, ten years’ time?
From a creative side, I want to work with creative clients making beautiful design work and campaigns. My best feels yet to come, I’m itching to produce stunning design work.
Ideally, I want to help more people through my work and my teachings. I’m interested in addressing larger questions of recontextualizing queerness/intersectional feminism within spirituality, in creating and engaging in dialogues around capitalism and commodification in and around art/design/spirituality, and I want to continue to empower and help as many people as possible.
Giving more money away is a big goal as well. Currently I give hundreds of dollars away (from selling my products) to organizations such as Black Lives Matter LA, the NAACP legal defense fund, and the Sylvia Rivera Law Project. Real talk: in even the next year I’d love to up that amount to thousands.
And, duh, I want my mountain of student loan debt paid off ASAP!
How do you market your business?
I network authentically; if I have a real connection with someone I’ll reach out to them. Oftentimes I’ll get introduced or referred to a potential client. It is important to enjoy who you work with, to believe in them and wish to support them on all levels. There’s no use being sketchy or trying to push anything too hard, just form meaningful relationships with people you value and down the line opportunities may come.
When hired, I do the best job I possibly can. That’s honestly probably the most important focus of mine. Do the work well, deliver something you and the client is excited by and happy with.
I’m on Instagram. I write a blog, and once a month or so I send out a newsletter to a small group of readers. That stuff feels more fun than marketing type work though. Sometimes people contact me for interviews, or I try to get interviewed, but there’s not much time for that. It is all word of mouth right now. I’ve not spent a penny on advertising, but often think about it.
Sarah’s Many Moons Workbook is a best-seller. Photo via The Radder.
How does being LGBTQ impact on your business (if at all)?
Being queer has of course impacted my philosophies, my priorities, my empathy, compassion-levels and my world-view. Obviously it’s shaped the personal/political design and art I create.
As a Tarot reader, it’s widened my scope and range. Assumptions don’t help anyone, and I think being a passing self-identified lesbian with a passing trans partner has sure taught me about the ins and outs of all that. I try to widen that lack of judgement to all humans in my spiritual work. Personally, I’m not catering to a specific sexuality or gender. You could be purple or an alien or a bulldog, what do I care? (I’d love to work with a purple bulldog alien, actually, how cute would that be?) At the end of our lives we are all going to the same place, we all have the same feelings, just rearranged in different patterns at different times. I think most people that book Tarot readings with me know I’m a feminist and know I’m a queer.
There’s no reason for my freelance graphic design clients to know my sexuality. It is not like I’m hiding it, there’s just no reason for it to come up. In those cases it’s much more important that I’m talented, timely, professional, a clear communicator and trustworthy.
What three websites, blogs, books or people do you rate for business advice or ideas about your work?
My financial ‘advisor’ Paco is really great and has helped me so much. I’d recommend working with Paco to anyone in the greater LA area who wants to get a grip on their business.
The writer and teacher Esme Wang is amazing, she offers advice for those ambitious souls who have chronic, debilitating illnesses. Before her, I hadn’t really found a creative who so bravely discussed creating through limitations. Its been heartening to read her journals and be reminded I’m not alone in my struggles with chronic illness.
Paul Jarvis has good topics and helpful tips. I appreciate his transparency about his business, his process, and his habits.
What’s your hot tip for queer women who want to start their own business?
Be as kind as you can be to everyone. Don’t be afraid to stick to your boundaries. Make sure you have like 2-3 super tight or trustworthy friends or family that can be there for you emotionally while you deal with the highs and lows of working for yourself.
For goodness sake, be original. The plethora of copycats now has become almost too much to bear. Work through your own ideas, create your own authentic work that is unique. This world needs your special voice!
Define your key values early on (these will change). Is your top value getting better at your craft? Is it making as much bank as humanely possible? Shape your days accordingly. Annie Dillard wrote: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” Examine how exactly you’d like to spend your days.
Find more of Sarah’s work at sarahgottesdiener.com, buy goodies from her online store, Modern Women, or check out her site on Tarot and the Moon cycles at Visual Magic. You can also keep up with Sarah on Instagram.
Are you following your arrow? Making a living doing what you love…or trying to? I’d love to hear about it! Drop a line to beth at autostraddle dot com with a description of your work and a link to your website.
I’m interested in entrepreneurs, side-hustlers, founders of charities, freelancers and all the other people who eschew employment to do their own thing. As always, I’d be especially excited to hear from women of colour, trans women and people who are working in the margins.
Feature image courtesy of The What’s Underneath Project
Since 2009, StyleLikeU has been committed to giving people with diverse bodies, experiences and ideas a platform to share their story in their own words. Now it’s an international brand with a new season of The What’s Underneath Project on a subscription website, and that core goal remains. You can watch all eight episodes at Fullscreen with a free 30-day trial. This season features four rad queers who you may or may not be familiar with. They have wildly different experiences, but they each artfully advocate messages of self-acceptance, courage and making the world a better place. Learn more about them, and then check out the episodes! All quotes are from interviews with Autostraddle unless otherwise noted.
Grace is a non-binary writer and activist who has established a brand and work entirely outside the auspices of their older sister. Currently, they are focused on Support.FM, a project in collaboration with Rye Skelton and Blaine O’Neill that seeks to raise funds to provide bail money to trans and gender-non conforming people who need to raise bail and bond money. The platform works in conjunction with numerous grassroots organizations.
Grace was attracted to the style of the project that felt “political while also being intimate.”
“I was excited about the possibility of young queer, trans, and gender non-conforming people seeing my video,” they said. “I don’t claim to have much certainty when it comes to what I am or who I’ll be, but I would have liked to have more role models when I was younger who talked openly about the ways they were lost, especially in terms of gender-expression.”
In their episode, Grace talks about gender, relationships and much more.
https://youtu.be/AYdepLvUxNA
Lauren is a fashion model and menstrual health advocate. She lost one of her legs below the knee due to complications from Toxic Shock Syndrome, and she has become an advocate for better research on the chemicals in menstrual products. The experience changed her forever, and her relationship with her girlfriend was a huge motivator in coming to terms with her new body. In her episode, she says she wouldn’t undo the loss of her leg even if she could, because she is doing so much more with her life now.
“Each time [my story] is heard, I hopefully save at least one life if not more,” Lauren said. “It’s my mission, and I’m extremely passionate about it because I do not want anyone to have to go through what I have. It’s been a very long road of recovery and something I have to deal with daily.”
She’s thankful that StyleLikeU gave her a new platform to spread the word about her work.
https://youtu.be/0u2lRGqCFBE
You might recognize Gaby from her video series Just Between Us, from her life-changing podcast Bad With Money, or from A-Camp 7. She is a rising internet star and a lieutenant (at least) in the ongoing bisexual revolution that has blossomed in 2016.
Gaby said she struggles with insecurity and depression, but that is part of why she decided to take StyleLikeU up on their offer to take part in the series.
“When I was asked to participate, I actually felt honored that anyone would think I had the confidence to do it, and the kind of story that people might be interested in,” she said. “I think I talk a big game about confidence but I’m still an actress and a woman on the internet and comments about my body definitely affect me. I wanted to put my money where my mouth is and challenge myself to actually shrug all that shit off once and for all.”
https://youtu.be/5jnE5stb4Ok
Crystal is a poet, artist and activist whose poetry is centered on social justice. She has won numerous awards and was NYC’s Youth Poet Laureate in 2015. Her recent book Not Everything Is A Eulogy is available at penmanshipbooks.com. Although she’s used to performing, working with StyleLikeU was a different kind of experience.
“I will admit that I am a little nervous that the interview is out in the world and available for consumption but I am proud of myself for being myself for all to see,” Crystal said. “As a poet, I normally have time to carefully construct my sentences, my metaphors, etc., but here I didn’t have any preparation, and honestly, I don’t think I needed any. We need more spaces for black people, queer black women and femmes especially, to talk openly about themselves with no strings attached.”
Crystal is currently teaching writing and poetry workshops, performing, touring, and preparing for graduate school.
https://youtu.be/_KqAjwDCbyY
So, race was a topic this year. I don’t know if you caught that. Much of the conversation drove me crazy, which is to say, I appreciated MTV’s whitesplaining whitesplaining video. But there were some moments of anti-racist creativity that were so sublime, I’d like to take a moment to honor them. These are the top ten moments of radical art or artful activism that I encountered in my own little world this year.
If you can get through this song without breaking down I wish you the very best of luck vis-à-vis the whole humanity thing.
During a temporary teaching gig in Minnesota, I took my literature students on a field trip to see the Walker Art Center exhibition “Radical Presence: Black Performance in Contemporary Art” in Minneapolis. After reading Zadie Smith’s NW, Kiese Laymon’s How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America, Claudia Rankine’s Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, Sapphire’s Precious, and watching Fruitvale Station, we were so exhausted by grief, class began to feel like group therapy. One of the first art pieces that we encountered upon entering the exhibit was the aftermath of a performance in which Pope.L chewed small pieces of the Wall Street Journal (along with ketchup and milk) and then spit them out while seated on an elevated toilet. As if to say: if you can’t beat ‘em, vomit ‘em.
Bhanu Kapil’s “English Rose”
Since we’re on the topic of regurgitation: Recently, I went to a reading by the British-Indian poet Bhanu Kapil. She prepared to speak by physically rejecting colonialism. She chewed (delicately) and then vomited forth an English rose. Earlier this year, I saw her conduct two sessions: “Orality and the Mongrel Cry” and “White Privilege Exorcism.” In the first, she asked for a person of color in the audience to volunteer to receive a treatment that might relax his masseter muscle and help him better release his mongrel cry. For the second, Kapil coached a white female volunteer to loosen the muscles in her face “engaged in instances of disgust” so that she might be less likely to inadvertently sneer upon encountering a person of color. It was like going to a comedy club, except instead of being told by the comedian that you must be a black bastard because you have a white mom (which is what happened the one time I went to The Comedy Store) you are affirmed and encouraged.
While meeting Patrisse Cullors caused me to experience a brief neurological solar eclipse, and listening to Darnell Moore talk about the significance of queer inclusion in this new civil rights movement gave me the chills, and I was prouder than a peach about my friend Matice M. Moore’s kick ass t-shirt design, the presentation that turned me into a weeping mess at this year’s BLM conference in Tucson was by the queer grassroots organizer Raul Alcaraz Ochoa. He’s the kind of activist who crawls under border patrol vehicles to protest the deportation of somebody’s father. When he spoke, he was on his way to and from a political action, so he had to be brief. But in that amount of time, he spoke glowingly about the African American civil rights struggle, and talked about the importance of intersectional activism. How minorities in this country need to keep an eye out for each other, because we’re all up against the same machine.
When you are in an MFA workshop and somebody says something racially screwy, it can take a second to truly wrap your mind around what’s happened. And besides, you’re busy talking about literature — who has time to stop the conversation, pull out the Peggy McIntosh and dismantle white supremacy there and then? So when I first encountered the Mongrel Coalition Against Gringpo, I felt like the blind man in Amelie at that moment when she takes him by the arm and describes what’s happening in the world around him and the sky opens up and he momentarily transcends his physical form (nevermind, for a moment, the savior complex at play, nevermind the fact that Paris was mysteriously devoid of black and brown bodies for the duration of this film). Mongrel Coalition Against Gringpo says all the things that anyone who has ever been an MFA candidate of color could ever want to hear about racism in the literary world but with panache, with hilarity, AND IN ALL CAPS.
from Mongrel Coalition Against Gringpo
A recent blog entry includes a list of hypothetical book titles you wish filled your library, including:
WHY IS THIS WHITE WOMAN CRYING?: WHITE FEMINISM FRAGILITY AND THE MACHINATIONS OF PRIVILEGE
DON’T SHIT ON MY HEAD & TELL ME IT’S A HAT: THE CHAMBER PISS POT ANTHOLOGY OF TRADITIONAL AMERICAN POETRY
CHE GUEVARA HATES YOU: THE MAN BEHIND YOUR STUPID T-SHIRT
SURVIVING YOUR MFA/PhD: A YOUNG POC’S TALE OF… OH, FUCK IT, JUST QUIT
VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHEZ AVEC YOURSELF: NEOCOLONIAL FRANCOPHILIA DOES NOT MEAN HAITI IS YOUR BLACK BUCK.
I really just said Basquiat’s name to get your attention. If you, like me, were obsessed with the film Basquiat when you were a teenager, you probably have memorized every single scene in which Jeffrey Wright canoodles with, pisses off or otherwise engages Claire Forlani. In reality, Forlani is a composite character, referencing, among others, Basquiat’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Suzanne Mallouk. At one point, in real life, Mallouk was involved with a young black man named Michael Stewart, who was killed by police officers after he was caught tagging in the New York City subway. Mallouk raised money to help Stewart’s family bring his case to court. She also photographed every wound on Michael Stewart’s dead body for evidence. Basquiat made a painting. Before cell phone videos, there were people in a room with a body taking risks. Read more in Jennifer Clement’s autobiographical novel about Mallouk, Widow Basquiat.
I first saw images of this project when a friend told me about a recent trip home to New Orleans. Lisa Sigal’s project — part-theater, part architectural intervention — imagines a couple conversing about their complex response to the idea of a blighted house burning down. Quotes by playwright Suzan Lori-Parks are written on the walls. Long after the performance, the words of Lori-Parks still mark the homes with evocative language. My very favorite is the one house that boasts this little snippet of dialogue:
White: You thinking of me?
Other: No.
White: How bout now?
When I read the New Yorker profile “Unfollow” about former Westboro Baptist Church devotee, Megan Phelps-Roper, I was undone by David Abitbol’s decision to play nice, which was a major factor in Phelps-Roper’s choice to leave the church. “You know, for an evil something something, you sure do crack me up,” is how their friendship began. My social media fights never end that well.
I first encountered the work of Jen Hofer when she read from a piece that she translated, I think it by Cristina Rivera Garza. Because Hofer is especially unwilling to make the politics of translation invisible, she includes commentary (more than usual) in her work so that no reader comes away from the text assuming that Spanish and English roll neatly from one into the other without explicit choices being made in that sometimes turbulent, sometimes untranslatable between space. She explains, “translation is the echo or annotation of a text whose body or being we cannot perceive in its entirety.” For awhile now, she has been collaborating with John Pluecker. These queer poets, artists and activist interpreters have created a project called Antena, a “language justice and language experimentation collaborative.” The project is a mobile translation operation. They sell and make books, participate in political protests, and create multilingual spaces– acting as interpreters for community events. Hofer explains of the collision of aesthetic practice and social justice work: “Our work as interpreters is also our poetry.”
I love Claudia Rankine for a number of reasons, the least of which being that when me and my girlfriend asked her to sign The Racial Imaginary after a reading, she told us, “You guys are cute.” YEAR MADE. So to see her book held high behind Donald Trump’s face at a rally where anti-racist protesters were being bullied? It was a moment of the most delicious magic. Also, Johari Osayi Idusuyi has been a delight to watch in interviews.
Gifting can be difficult, especially when it’s for for someone really special or unique. One of my great fears during gift-giving is to give someone something that they already have, or worse — something they find boring. My best tactic for protecting myself from this kind of embarrassing situation is to find one-of-a-kind, handmade stuff from independent artists — the weirder, the better. To my delight, many of the best of these are also made by some badass women.
I’m super lucky to have grown up in a “weird” city full of independent artists, makers, freelancers, creatives, designers, and every manner of craftsperson. As I’ve grown up, I’ve become more and more interested in using my queer dollars to support the thriving creative economy that is the backbone of my community — aaand you can too! By supporting an artist, you can buy your friends — and your chosen fam, gal pals, jealous frienemies, haters, whoever — something they’re guaranteed not to have seen before. When they ask you where you got it, just wink and say “I know a gal.” Just kidding, you should rep the artist! Then you can bask in how cool you look for knowing about so many amazing indie woman/womyn artists.
Also, I have a major Etsy problem and I needed an excuse to put it to good use by introducing you all to some of my favorites!
Spinning Top Dreidel Vase from Studio Armadillo – Anat Stein and Hadas Kruk are two amazing product designers living in Tel Aviv making beautiful design objects for the Jewish holy days! I love all their items so much, I want to buy them for Jewish and nonreligious friends alike.
Pale Lilac Blossom Salt Spoon by Amano – The shop describes this as “pretty much the cutest thing ever,” and honestly, after Ellen Page, I agree! Gorgeous, speckled, and with tiny gold flecks, these are the perfect spoons for some bomb-ass breakfast.
Beads On My Mind art screenprint by Eve Neve – Such a cool screenprint! Split-fountain ink on translucent paper by the artist, I can see this looking really interesting framed in glass and hung in front of a window.
Organic Forged Brass Mobile by Fail Jewelry – Beautiful, mesmerizing, and fun for cats (if you trust them near such a lovely thing)!
Picasso Cats Silk Scarf by Leah Goren – A beautifully printed, classy, and subtle way to wear more cats.
Amazonite and Brass Necklace by Curious Creatures – I love the subtle, kooky interplay of the geometric shapes in this!
Opal and Gold Moon ring by Supreme Elixir – Witchy vibezzzz
Teen Witch hat by Penelope Gazin – And speaking of witchy vibes: tomboy witchy vibezzz.
POP abstract ceramic art necklace by Eve Neve – A ceramic necklace! This is so bright, colorful, and unique, and it reminds me of Italian postmodern designers Ettore Sottsass and Memphis Group.
Roman Wreath Jacket by Gem Blue – I’ve never thought of having jewelry that curled around the bottom of my ear and I love it.
Shade Fan by Bombe Surprise – I don’t even need to tell you how amazing this is.
Madame Moss Velvet Longline and High Waisted Panty Set – I believe there’s something radical about women making lingerie for other women, for the celebration of your own body, the pure beauty of your particular shapes and curves. And this one is olive! And high-waisted! And velvet — which is an inspired touch for a set of clothing I would wear if I felt like encouraging someone to touch me (wink).
BZR Ombré Tights! – Tiffany Ju hand-dyes these brightly colored tights into perfect ombré gradients. I love the idea, and for the record, I’m dying to see someone in matching ombré hair and tights.
The Bitterroot Dress from Bow and Arrow Apparel – For the more pioneer-minded beauty, this dress is made with organic cotton chambray and hemp with a beautiful, small detail in the antiqued silver buttons.
Cactus Twirling Dress from Thief and Bandit – Such a happy, pretty print, I would love to see how this looks when you twirl in it.
‘Cosmos’ Peter Pan Collar by İrem Yazıcı – I can’t get over how cool these are! A hand-embroidered peter pan collar with a space theme, it’s like Carrie Brownstein got cast in Battlestar Galactica.
Wild Flowers and Juneberries Bottle cap brooch also by İrem Yazıcı – So sweet and cute! If it were up to me, everything I ever did would involve plants.
Strand Pin by Kathleen Whitaker – Super-minimalist and just a little scary-looking, this is a great way to add a super-subtle sparkle to any outfit.
Love Patch by Coucou Suzette – One for you, one for your BFF, and you’re pretty much halfway there to having a denim-babe squad.
All of the pins and patches! by Penelope Gazin – Penelope Gazin is an artist and animator who puts her drawings on patches and pins and they’re all sassy and great. Her work makes me consider covering an entire wall with denim so I can buy every button, pin, and patch and put ’em up.
Weirdo Sew-on Patch by Creepy Gals – Because people need to know.
Ceramic Fox bowl by Barruntado – Can’t get over how cute this is, can’t wait to put all my earrings in it.
Boob Planter by Jessica Woolard – Obviously.
“All I Care About is Pizza” tote by Dinosaur Toes – Announce your superior priorities.
Catmoflage Handmade Silkscreen Pouch by Curious Creatures – A cat pouch! Or, if you want to (bamboo)branch out—pandas!
Made-to-Order Holographic Backpack by Cuties Club – I can’t believe this “cutie” makes these herself! Lisa Frank-tastic.
These days, people love to say we’re at a “transgender tipping point,” a market so saturated with trans faces and stories that the battle must be more than halfway won. People know the names — Janet, Laverne, Caitlyn — and those who have long focused on the L and the G are beginning to mention the T more and more. The consensus is that we’ve made progress, and some seem confident we’re hurtling rapidly toward the horizon of equality. That’s an assumption the curators of Bring Your Own Body, a new exhibition at the Cooper Union in New York, are hoping to upend.
Effy Beth, Una nueva artista necesita usar el baño (A new artist needs to use the bathroom), 2011. Courtesy of the artist’s estate. Photo by María Laura Voskian.
“Although it’s very timely in terms of unprecedented visibility of trans narratives, if you visit the exhibition you can also see the cycle of sensationalism around trans is nothing new,” Stamatina Gregory, associate dean of the School of Art at Cooper Union and a curator of the show, says. “At this particular moment, it’s also important to burst open the kind of newly normalized narrative of trans.”
Through an exhibition of both contemporary artwork by a slew of trans artists and creators — Justin Vivian Bond, niv Acosta, Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and more — and a truly impressive selection of archival documents from the Kinsey Archives and the University of Victoria Transgender Archives, Gregory and co-curator Jeanne Vaccaro work to fill in the gaps between what many see as signs of mainstream progress and the true, vast history of trans people’s lived experiences.
The most obvious representation of the past wrongdoing against transgender people is a mock broadsheet featuring a collage of newspaper headlines: “Ice Cream Man Becomes Lady,” “COPS THAT DRESS AS GIRLS,” “Ten Little Unhappy Boys Made Happy Girls by Surgeon’s Knife,” “‘Girl’ in dock was a man,” “SWISH SET DEMANDS EQUAL RIGHTS.” Their word choice and font selection betray them as decades old, but the spectacle they create out of subverted gender expectations could easily be mistaken for a modern-day gossip mag headline. Images of Christine Jorgensen, famed for her very public transition, immediately call to mind Caitlyn Jenner‘s Vanity Fair glamour shots:
Christine Jorgensen during a visit to the Institute for Sex Research at Indiana University in Bloomington, IN, 1953. Photo by William Dellenback. Courtesy of Kinsey Institute, Indiana University.
It’s in the issues of Transvestia and other documents, arranged on a table in the back space of the gallery with the archival selections, that you find the deeper stories. In personal ads and letters, writers describe themselves by location, assigned gender and age (Wash. — Male, 46) as well as their identities and personal desires (Wants very much to be a girl in all ways. Please help.) The last part of many entries is a name: Laura, Denise, Linda. It’s striking and, even next to the joyous elements, like the essays and correspondences and comics in Transvestia, often profoundly sad — because no matter how developed a culture they represent, it’s still a part of history that was hidden as it happened and has been allowed to fade from memory.
But before you reach the archives, tucked around a corner in the back of the gallery, the grand front room leads you through the work of the contemporary artists recording trans experience in realtime. It’s a space full of self-determined trans representation; not pictures of trans people dressed up and posed for cis photographers, but works of art expressing body, beauty, pain and progress.
Mark Aguhar, Making Looks, 2011. Courtesy of the artist.
Some of these contemporary selections, like Mark Aguhar‘s drawings and the images of Lady Jaye and Genesis P. Orridge, express a divided longing similar to that of the personal ads from the archives. An installation by Justin Vivian Bond reflects the glamorous femininity of the archival photos, but brings the artist’s image and self-creation into the mix. Vaccaro says they thought a lot about the “legacies and genealogies between the artists” in the collection, and indeed many of the artists on display have or had relationships with one another. Other selections stress another element of transgender storytelling: loss. The items on display from the collections of Aguhar and Effy Beth, both of whom died by suicide, are striking on their own but take on more weight with that knowledge.
“That kind of work epically points to how much more work can be done, that there exists to be done, and how difficult it is, too,” Gregory says. “The trans community loses people all the time.”
Effy Beth, My Female Reproductive System Is My Mind
Vaccaro, a postdoctoral gender studies fellow at Indiana University and a research fellow at the Kinsey Archives, picked some of the archival selections with students while teaching a queer archives class. For both Vaccaro and Gregory, placing the exhibition in a public space — rather than a commercial gallery — was crucial to their goal of public service.
“I’m really interested in what it means for people to access this kind of history, to kind of bring the archives out of the ivory tower and put it into dialogue with contemporary art and activism,” Vaccaro says.
It’s this collocation that makes the relatively small space one you could spend hours in, thumbing through documents and drawings connecting lines “between archives and aesthetics,” as the exhibition title puts it. The works keep a grasp on you even as you exit the gallery, where spillover selections from Flawless Sabrina’s archives and the clip from Zachary Drucker’s Southern for Pussy invite you to pause and take in just a little more before you make it back up the stairs.
“Bring Your Own Body: transgender between archives and aesthetics” is on display now through Nov. 14 at the 41 Cooper Gallery at the Cooper Union School of Art in New York City. The ongoing exhibition is open Tuesday through Saturday, 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Live programs are scheduled for Oct. 29, Nov. 4-5 and Nov. 14.
Feature image credit: Zackary Drucker, film stills from ‘Southern for Pussy,’ 2015. Courtesy of the artist.
Earlier this month, Dazed Digital published a feature about the recently-exhibited “At Home With Themselves,” a photography project by Sage Sohier which featured same-sex couples at home in the 1980s. It’s an extraordinary collection, and a revolutionary one, too — it was rare to find imagery representing the ordinary domestic lives of LGBT people. It’s unfortunate that mainstream America mostly only saw us at Pride Marches, considering the rich legacy of lesbian photographers we have going back to the ’60s and ’70s, women like Joan E. Biren, Cathy Cade, Tee Corinne, Robert Girard, Laura Aguilar, Catherine Opie, Mumaz Karimjess, Chloe Atkins, Deborah Bright, Fiona Arnold, Jill Posener, Zone Paraiso Montoya and Hanh Thi Pham and Laura Aguilar. That tradition continues today with a new generation of queer women like Cass Bird and Sophia Wallace capturing our lives.
Today, we’re looking at projects from the last few years that specifically sought out and photographed ordinary LGBTQ people that fell within a certain demographic group. It’s truly, truly wonderful stuff.
Wright’s project — photographing people who identify as anything besides 100% straight, since 2010 — has already captured over 9,000 queer faces, including a lot of famous ones, too.
“Ducky and Her Friends, 2008” in Cedar Rapids, Iowa
This project is wide-reaching and spectacular, and it was basically impossible to select just one image to include here — you should go see the whole damn thing. Embodiment aims to document and archive “the lives of people who offer brave new visions of what it means to be queer in America today,” in “churches, parks, high school classrooms, back yards and bedrooms,” in rural and urban areas, Embodiment portrays a radical diversity of family styles and gender expressions. We interviewed Molly Landreth and Amelia Tovey back in 2010 as they were raising money for the website’s kickstarter campaign.
Many LGBTQ youth, abandoned or rejected by their families because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, flock to cities like New York in search of community and often end up seeking assistance from organizations like New Alternatives for LGBT Homeless Youth. Lobis Brown spent several months volunteering at a church sanctuary run by New Alternatives before asking if she could take studio portraits of the kids, “many of whom have been abused, neglected, or forced out of their homes by their families of origin.” She remains a volunteer at the shelter, and hopes that her photographs “will break through the keen isolation felt by members of this community to reveal the common threads of fear, hope, and love that unite us all.”
via Stevenson
Renowned South African photographer Zanele Muholi has been documenting the queer South African community through art for years. “Faces and Phases” is part of her ongoing mission to ensure queer black visibility with subjects shot in locations including Gauteng, Cape Town, Mafikeng, Botswana and Sweden. “Faces expresses the person, and Phases signify the transition from one stage of sexuality or gender expression and experience to another,” writes Muholi in her artist’s statement. “Faces is also about the face-to-face confrontation between myself as the photographer/activist and the many lesbians, women and trans men I have interacted with from different places.”
This ongoing photographic journalism project seeks to record and make visible the stories of LGBTQ youth in the United States. Laurel takes the photographs and Diana Scholl records the stories to capture “the incredible diversity and uniqueness among the LGBTQ youth population.”
Phan Ngoc Hai Ly dries one of her cats after a bath while Pham Thao Huyen tries on new rollerblades
For two years, Elan photographed LGBT couples in Vietnam, aiming to build empathy and interest between a straight audience and LGBT people by showing them in their typical lives and homes, doing casual and often mundane daily activities. She called it “Pink Choice” after the name of a popular travel site for gays and lesbians. You can view photographs from the series that are hard to find on her website in this New York Times article about the project.
Herman’s Mom (like mine) came out while she was in high school, and married her partner in Massachusetts immediately after it became legal. Herman recalls it being difficult to have a gay parent during a time when homosexuality really wasn’t discussed or accepted in the same way it is now. While this project doesn’t document LGBTQ people specifically, it does document children of LGBTQ people, adding another dimension to representation.
This summer Sheng published a book of his project, which began in 2003. That’s when he started taking pictures of out LGBT high school and college athletes as a way of exploring his own identity as a former closeted high school athlete. Over 200 athletes have since posed for the project, which has been exhibited all over the world including at The Olympics, Nike Headquarters and ESPN.
Deragon, a San Francisco portrait photographer, launched The Identity Project in 2014 to “explore the labels we choose to identify with when defining our gender and sexuality. ” She started with 50 portraits in the Bay Area and got slammed with requests, eventually launching an Indiegogo campaign to photograph people all over the country. Like Autostraddle Contributing Editor Laura Mandanas, for example:
Alix Smith spent six years photographing families with same-sex couples in a style strongly influenced by historical portraits that were used in the past to memorialize important families and honor family patriarchs and matriarchs. Straight people had this profound illustrated legacy that simply doesn’t exist for us, and so she set out to make it in a contemporary context.
Smith wanted to “provide a rare insight into the ever-evoling passions, confusions, prejudices, fulfillment, joys and sorrows of queer youth,” capturing a diverse group of 14-to-24-year-olds who identified as LGBTQ — not just their images, but their stories, too, in their own words. A book of the project was published in 2014.
Natsumi Okata (right) and Asami Tsuchiya (left)
This project took over five years and a huge group of photographers to capture over 10,000 people in an attempt to “capture the true face of Japan’s LGBT community” and “highlight the presence of LGBT people in daily life — a community that is not especially high-profile in Japan.”
Someone finally got it right.
You know all those maternity photos of ladies gazing dreamily toward their swollen bellies while golden light streams in from the background?
Yeah. That is NOT what pregnancy is like. Much less queer pregnancy.
Photographer Sophie Spinelle explores queer pregnancy and medically assisted conception in the photo series Modern Conception, with queer writer Michelle Tea as the model. Full disclosure: Sophie is also a friend of mine, and supported me and my wife Anita through years of fertility treatments. She has said that watching our journey helped inspire this series.
Like most queer couples, Anita and I approached the project of growing our family with open minds. We considered all the different ways to get a baby, from foster care to adoption to pregnancy. Anita said pregnancy would feel to her like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and as a family lawyer I knew too much about the uncertainties of adoption, so we decided that I would carry the baby. I was actually a little nervous about spreading my genes, which distinguish themselves mostly by bad teeth. But I was excited to join the ancient sisterhood of women who had shared the experience of pregnancy. I thought it would feel instinctual, animal, natural.
We asked a gorgeous, creative friend to be our donor and were giddy to learn that his wife was just as excited about our project as he was. Whenever I was about to drop an egg, we took the subway to his Bohemian, cat-ridden apartment. He and his wife went into another room and came out with a cup full of the fresh, warm “genetic material.” Then my wife and I went to a different room to inject it with, of all things, a Baby Tylenol dropper. The process felt intimate, exciting and a little naughty. One magical night, after the insemination, we all drank wine, ate Moroccan pheasant pie and noticed a full moon out the window. We were sure our child had been conceived. We were wrong.
Sophie’s image of Mother Nature in stirrups captures the tension between the way women are taught to conceive (naturally, instinctually) and the way most queer women actually do conceive. After our nights of wine and moonlight produced exactly nothing, Anita and I escalated to fertility clinics, where we learned that at the relatively young age of 34, my egg supply was low and we were “scraping the bottom of the barrel” (yes, a doctor actually said that out loud). We began a monthly procedure called Intra-Uterine-Insemination (IUI) that involved injecting needles full of fertility drugs into my stomach and monitoring my eggs as they grew. Every two days, I had a 7 AM tryst with the transvaginal ultrasound, a shockingly long, cold, condom-covered wand that we promptly named “The Dildo-Cam.”
Our poor donor was working hard, too. No clinic would inseminate me with his fresh sperm despite the fact that we had swapped fluids at home. They required STD testing, genetic testing and psychological evaluations. To prevent HIV transmission, they also demanded that his sperm be frozen and quarantined for 6 months. It enraged me that straight couples could just show up at the clinic with their marriage certificates, while we had to prove we were sane, genetically sound, medically immaculate. Of course, the reality of depositing sperm in a bank is not as immaculate as one would hope. Our donor later told us that they made him fill out a “bible” full of paperwork, then put him in a room lined with red padding, where he watched a porn called Milkmaids in Manhattan.
After eight IUIs, dozens of dates with Dildo-Cam, and hundreds of needles full of hormones, I began to forget my feminism and feel like a failure as a woman. I even forgot about all the family-growing options Anita and I had considered in the past and became desperate to have a baby in my belly. I knew that I had become obsessed when I found myself drinking carrot juice, eating bitter pineapple core and listening to a meditation CD called “Help for Infertility,” in which a soothing yoga type urged me to close my eyes and imagine sperm meeting egg. Anita and I were advised by well-meaning morons that it was all due to stress and we should “take a vacation.” Meanwhile, our doctors urged us to try the most stressful and expensive procedure to date: IVF. It involved harvesting eggs, growing them in a test tube and implanting them back into my uterus. In comparison to other families who suffer failed IVFs and miscarriages, Anita and I were incredibly lucky. Our first IVF was covered by insurance, and resulted in a healthy twin pregnancy.
The last two pictures in the series depict pregnancy in all its gore and glory. In contrast to cheesy maternity shoots or tabloid “baby bumps,” Sophie’s photos show our animal hunger, our exhaustion and our inability to keep up with the housework. Was pregnancy my happy ending? Partly. I was admitted into the sisterhood I had hoped to join, a sisterhood of strange and secret symptoms. Random acquaintances (and one family court judge) told me about their own swollen labia, leaking nipples and heartburn. As I lumbered through the city streets, women called out to me: “God bless you, you gonna have a football player!” and “You got it, baby, you’re almost there!” (I was only 6 months pregnant). But there was also the night when I woke Anita up to ask: “Do you think acid reflux could actually kill me? I feel like I could die. Could I die?” Spoiler alert: I didn’t, you can’t.
Here’s the honest truth, or at least my truth: Trying to conceive sucks. Pregnancy mostly sucks. Birth totally blows. But here’s real happy ending: Our beautiful twin daughters are now four. They wear tutus everywhere, even the beach. They know they were in my belly, but they love their Mommy and Mama equally. And the other day, we played an entire round of Candy Land without a meltdown.