Tag: queer

  • 10 Questions with Justy: Queer Tenderness through Music

    10 Questions with Justy: Queer Tenderness through Music

    Justy, an independent queer artist, makes music at the intersection of alternative R&B, indie soul, jazz, and hip-hop. With her new single, “Traer(te) la luna,” set to be released on August 28, we were eager to ask about her musical inspirations and how she expresses queerness through song.

    10 Questions with Justy

    1. You’ve said that your upcoming single, “Traer(te) la luna,” which roughly translates to “Bring you the moon,” highlights the impossibility of giving someone everything because of how they feel. Do you feel queer individuals are more uniquely susceptible to this feeling of impossibly high standards–in life, romance, love–than straight counterparts? 

    That’s a great question. I don’t think impossibly high standards are exclusive to queer people, but I do think queer people can experience them in a very specific way. Many of us grow up without seeing our love reflected back to us, so when we finally find someone who makes us feel understood, that connection can carry an enormous amount of weight. It can feel rare, almost miraculous, and that rarity can make us want to preserve it at any cost.

    “Traer(te) la luna” lives inside that feeling. It’s about wanting to offer someone something as impossible as the moon because ordinary gestures no longer seem big enough. But underneath that devotion is the realization that love cannot always overcome timing, fear, circumstance, or the way someone feels. You can give someone your patience, your vulnerability, and every version of the future you imagined, but you cannot love them into being ready.

    For me, that is where the song becomes especially connected to queer love: not because queer people love more intensely than anyone else, but because our relationships can carry the additional pressure of scarcity, secrecy, delayed discovery, or feeling like we have finally found something we were once told was impossible.

    1. Your work crosses multiple different genres–alternative R&B, indie soul, jazz, and hip-hop. What gravitates you towards a specific genre, and how, as an artist, are you able to find harmony between these multiple genres within a song or album? 

    I’m usually drawn to a sound based on what the story needs. I don’t enter the studio thinking, “This has to be an R&B song” or “This needs to sound like jazz.” Sometimes an emotion calls for the warmth of live instrumentation and jazz chords; sometimes it needs the intimacy of indie soul, the rhythm of hip-hop, or the freedom and atmosphere of alternative R&B. Genre becomes another part of the language I use to communicate.

    Finding harmony between those influences feels natural because they all shaped the way I hear music. I grew up loving artists who refused to stay in one lane, from Lauryn Hill and Amy Winehouse to J Dilla, Noname, and Anderson .Paak. Their work showed me that contrast can create cohesion when the artist’s perspective remains consistent.

    Across a song or album, my voice and storytelling are the connecting threads. The production may move between genres, but the emotional world stays intact. I’m not trying to make different styles compete with one another. I’m interested in the place where they meet and become something that feels distinctly mine.

    1. How have your experiences as a lesbian artist shaped the themes and ideas within your works? 

    Before I had the language or confidence to express who I was, songwriting became a place where I could explore desire, uncertainty, intimacy, and identity honestly. That is why so much of my music lives in the space between what we feel and what we are able to say.

    I want to write about more than the struggle to be accepted. Queer people also experience so many facets of life that we don’t have nearly enough forms of representation for. Those stories deserve to exist without always needing to explain or defend themselves.

    At the same time, I understand the importance of being visible. I did not always see people who looked or presented like me occupying space in the genres I loved. By writing openly from my perspective, I hope another queer person can hear my music and recognize that their love, vulnerability, and contradictions are worthy of being documented.

    Every project I’ve dropped, from my debut [album] Pain With Benefits to now, aims to be a transparent representation of my experience. 

    1. Who have been some of the greatest queer inspirations in your own artistic endeavours? 

    Some of my greatest queer inspirations are Syd, CHIKA, Joy Oladokun, Arlo Parks, and Orion Sun. I’m inspired by the honesty in their work, the individuality of their sounds, and the different ways they represent queer experiences through music. Each of them creates without being limited by genre or expectations, while remaining authentic to who they are. Seeing queer artists take up space and build meaningful careers has encouraged me to trust my own perspective, experiment with my sound, and create the kind of honest representation I would have valued when I was younger.

    1. You focus on queer tenderness in your works. Why do you think it’s important to look at queer tenderness specifically in art? 

    I think queer tenderness is important because queer stories are often framed around struggle, rejection, or the need to fight for acceptance. Those stories are real, but they are not the entirety of our lives. We also experience softness, safety, longing, quiet intimacy, and the feeling of being fully understood by another person.

    Focusing on tenderness allows me to show queer love as something expansive and deeply human rather than something that must always be explained through conflict.

    1. Did your musical journey work in tandem with your own understanding of your sexual orientation, or did one clearly begin before the other? 

    I would say so. For me, making music was discovering parts of myself that didn’t have space to live comfortably. When I started creating, I felt I could finally connect with thoughts that had been building within me. It almost felt as if my identity was flourishing as I continued to lean into my writing process and musicality. 

    1. Along with utilizing multiple genres, you also use multiple languages in your works, such as English and Spanish. How has working with multiple languages shaped or changed your songs? 

    “Traer(te) la luna” is actually the first song where I’ve worked with multiple languages. Collaborating with Kiki Corona and bringing Spanish into the song opened up a new emotional and musical dimension for me. Some feelings take on a different texture when expressed in another language, and Kiki’s contribution allowed the tenderness and longing at the heart of the song to come through organically.

    The collaboration also made me think beyond the literal meaning of each line and consider how language affects a song’s rhythm, tone, and emotional weight. The Spanish does not feel like a separate addition; it is central to the atmosphere and identity of the track. Working with Kiki showed me how collaboration and language can expand not only what a song communicates, but also how deeply it can be felt.

    1. Can you offer some details about your artistic process and how you create a song that is so uniquely Justy?

    My process usually begins with a feeling, a phrase, or a chord progression that stays with me. I tend to write from emotions I have not completely worked through yet, so the song becomes a way of discovering what I am actually trying to say. I’ll record melodies and scattered lyrics in my voice notes, then slowly build the story around the lines that feel the most honest.

    Production is also an important part of my writing. I naturally pull from jazz, hip-hop, neo-soul, and alternative R&B.I love warm chords, layered vocals, conversational lyrics, and small details that make a song feel intimate and lived-in.

    What makes a song uniquely Justy is probably that balance between honesty and restraint. I’m interested in the things people feel deeply but do not always say aloud. I try to leave enough space in the music for listeners to place their own memories and experiences inside it.

    1. Have you felt pressured to change or alter your work to reach larger audiences? And what do you say to people who may themselves feel pressured to change themselves to accommodate heteronormative standards with art?  

    There is always some pressure as an independent artist to make your work easier to categorize or more comfortable for a wider audience. For queer artists, that can also mean feeling encouraged to make lyrics less specific, avoid pronouns, or present ourselves in a way that fits someone else’s idea of what is marketable. Earlier in my journey, I sometimes kept parts of my writing intentionally vague because I wanted everyone to relate to it. Over time, I realized that specificity does not make a song less universal. The more honest I am, the more people seem to find themselves in the music.

    To anyone feeling pressured to accommodate heteronormative standards, I would say that you do not have to dilute yourself to make your art meaningful. There is no single correct way to create queer art, and you should never feel obligated to disclose more than feels safe. But when you are ready, trust that your perspective is not an obstacle to connection. It is often the very thing that makes your work memorable. The goal is not to make yourself smaller for an audience; it is to create honestly enough that the right audience can recognize you.

    1. What would you like to see listeners take away from your work, and especially listeners within the LGBTQ+ community? 

    I want listeners to feel understood. My songs often explore emotions that are difficult to say aloud, such as longing, uncertainty, vulnerability, and the stories we create around the people we love. Even when a song comes from a very personal experience, I hope listeners can place their own memories inside it and find language for something they have felt.

    For LGBTQ+ listeners specifically, I want the music to feel like a space where their love is allowed to be tender, complicated, ordinary, and fully human. Queer stories do not always have to center on trauma or explain themselves to others. We deserve songs about crushes, mixed signals, romance, heartbreak, and all the quiet moments in between. If someone hears my work and feels less alone, more visible, or more comfortable embracing their own softness, then the song has done what I hoped it would do.

    “Traer(te) la luna,” Justy’s new single is described as “A dreamy bilingual indie soul / alternative R&B record about the space between attraction and imagination. Moving between English and Spanish over warm guitars and jazz-influenced production, the song captures the beautiful irrationality of wanting someone so much you’d give them the moon.” The single will be available on all music platforms on August 28.

  • Dr. Jake Robertson on Gulag Theater, Drag, Memory, and the Human Need to Be Seen

    Dr. Jake Robertson on Gulag Theater, Drag, Memory, and the Human Need to Be Seen

    There is a question running beneath all of Jake Robertson’s work: What is it that makes us human, and what happens when someone tries to take that away?

    Robertson (They/He) is a Soviet cultural historian, educator, theatermaker, and storyteller. They studied Slavic Languages and Literatures at Princeton, trained in acting at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, and recently completed a PhD at Oxford, where they researched professional theater inside Soviet Gulag camps.

    But Robertson’s work has never been confined to the archive. They have taught Russian language, history, and theater to students around the world. Robertson’s scholarship examines the relationship between artistic expression and political control, exploring how culture survives and sometimes resists under authoritarian systems.

    At the same time, Robertson’s career as a theatermaker and drag artist has taken him from Off-Broadway theaters to queer pubs to Shakespeare’s Globe.

    Robertson’s creative projects include Saundra Lezzenbaum: Love in Concert!, a one-woman drag spectacular combining original music, improv comedy, and couples therapy. Love in Concert! was just one of Saundra’s shows. Her current rep is a monthly community mixer called Saturday Night Love. It also combines comedy, cabaret, and group therapy in an effort to foster connections and build community.

    There is also Songbird, a play in development that weaves together the life and music of queer Soviet cabaret icon and Gulag theater star Vadim Kozin with the story of a drag artist facing imprisonment in contemporary Russia.

    On paper, these worlds might seem impossible to reconcile. An Oxford historian and drag performer. Soviet archives and comedy clubs. Gulag theater and queer performance. But for Robertson, they are all part of the same lifelong inquiry.

    “What binds us all together, while at the same time making us wholly unique?”

    Birch bark letter from Siberia.

    The Search for What Connects Us

    Robertson’s fascination with humanity has always existed between individuality and belonging.

    For much of Robertson’s early life, they carried the weight of a divided identity. They describe spending two decades closeted, negotiating questions about who they were and how openly they could live.

    “I began as a nerdy sensitive gay boy in the Midwest and now have broken out of the binary and embrace an expansive queer identity that transcends gender and sexuality, shaping my perspective on almost everything,” Robertson says.

    “Now that I have embraced who I am and opened that up more and more, I have become even more interested in bringing us together and what we all share.”

    Whether sitting in an archive in Siberia researching a forgotten performer, or stepping onto a stage as Saundra Lezzenbaum, Robertson keeps returning to the same essential human longing. To be recognized.

    “There is something magical that happens when you can be seen by someone else,” Robertson says. “We are vast and complex, but in some profound way, we want to be seen.”

    For Robertson, that recognition carries almost spiritual weight.

    “Namaste,” comes to mind. “The divine in me sees the divine in you.”

    That belief may seem far removed from the brutal realities of Soviet repression, but Robertson sees the same human impulse everywhere: the desire to connect and find meaning even in circumstances designed to destroy those possibilities.

    Gulag work.

    The Stage Behind the Barbed Wire

    Robertson’s doctoral research examined one of history’s most unlikely artistic landscapes: professional theater inside the Soviet Gulag.

    The Gulag system was built around forced labor and political control. It was designed to extract productivity from millions of prisoners while attempting to reshape them according to Soviet ideology.

    Yet within that system, something unexpected emerged: Theater.

    “I got into Gulag theater through memoirs,” Robertson says. “Through these experiences in the camps, I felt this connection to the artists.”

    Prisoners who had been actors, directors, musicians, and designers before their imprisonment continued creating. Others found artistic roles within the camps. They built stages, organized performances, designed sets, and produced operas and plays, all while receiving the support and resources of local Gulag administrators.

    Within the very system that sought to destroy their humanity, these artists found a way to preserve that humanity through their art.

    For Robertson, this transformed his understanding of creativity.

    “As a theater maker and a creative, it gave me a deeper reverence for the creative act as an expression of your identity…There is something about revering that act.”

    Art was not simply entertainment but proof of existence. It was a declaration.

    I am still here.

    Robertson’s research also complicates easy narratives. Gulag theater was not simply a story of heroic resistance. The performers often faced impossible moral questions. Some felt guilty because theater offered them privileges unavailable to others. Some prisoners accused them of collaborating with camp authorities.

    “The people who survived,” Robertson explains, “are the ones whose memories we are reading.”

    History, like humanity itself, is complicated.

    “That spectrum of humanity and barbarity is fascinating… The same camp boss who took up the role of patron-of-the-arts, who joyously cheered for the Gulag opera, also oversaw a regime of mass starvation, exploitation and death.”

    The contradiction is unsettling. But it is also revealing. History does not only show us what people do. History forces us to contemplate the contradictory vastness of being human.

    Robertson’s dissertation will be a book set for release in 2028 with Cornell University Press.

    Documents of the Gulag’s victims.

    Why Authoritarians Fear Stories

    For Robertson, the struggle over history is ultimately a struggle over storytelling.

    “Stories were everything. All human institutions and civilizations are built around stories.”

    Governments use stories to create national identity, justify policies, and define enemies. The Soviet Union carefully constructed narratives about progress and the inevitable triumph of communism.

    But stories are dangerous because they can never be fully controlled. They can also complicate official narratives.

    “I believe official narratives are also a form of storytelling, and a powerful one at that. But our stories, especially those that illuminate the expansive complexity of human reality, can also serve as an incisive challenge to those hegemonic discourses. That to me is the power of queer stories, the kind that refuse to submit to norms, conventions and binaries.”

    Authoritarian systems often demand simplicity: one truth, one version of history, one acceptable identity. But human experience resists simplicity.

    “Reality is more complex,” Robertson says. “That complexity is exactly what my work seeks to preserve.”

    “The story of Gulag theater would have been lost to the snowdrifts of time were it not for the local historians, survivors, descendants who preserved those memories and materials. My goal with my decade of research was to do my part to make sure they did not die and disappear.”

    Exhibition of the GULAG History Museum.

    Historians are trained to analyze evidence carefully. Artists are trained to explore possibility. Robertson believes both are necessary and mutually enriching.

    “I have years of training as a serious historian and as an artist. There is something to be said about the reality and limits of our knowledge, understanding what we can and cannot know for certain.”

    But scholarship cannot remain locked away.

    “It can’t exist in a vacuum. We need to communicate what we learn and share it.”

    At NYU, Robertson went on to create a brand new multidisciplinary course on Soviet Theater. It was called “Soviet Stages: Theatre as Revolution, Repression & Resistance in the USSR.” This fall, they will teach Introduction to Theatre Studies, building the course around the frame of drag and performing gender onstage and off.

    “When we did the scenes in class, we learned much more,” Robertson says, reflecting on Soviet Stages. “We could never get that just from words on a page. The artist enlivens and brings to life so many new things that we cannot do as researchers.”

    That philosophy informs Saundra Lezzenbaum, Robertson’s drag persona.

    saundralezzenbaum.com

    Saundra Lezzenbaum is a fictional character, drag cabaret persona, and self-proclaimed “America’s Queen of Hearts” whose larger-than-life mission is to rescue romance one laugh at a time. Hailing from her “palatial duplex in Ronkonkoma, Long Island,” Saundra presents herself as a world-famous love coach, matchmaker, and relationship expert whose improbable résumé includes a cosmetology background, a lunchtime Emmy-winning television show called Queen of Hearts on The CW, and a collection of wildly imaginative self-help books, including Married to Menopause: Keeping Things Hot Through the Hot Flashes and her love memoire Heart Attack, the Good Kind.

    At the center of her carefully crafted mythology is her supposedly flawless marriage to her beloved husband, Max Lezzenbaum, which she uses as the foundation for her advice on achieving “#PerfectMarriage” bliss. In performance, Saundra becomes a comedic Cupid for the modern age, hosting interactive New York City mixers, cabaret shows, and variety events aimed at solving what she jokingly calls the city’s “Cost of Loving Crisis.”

    Through her one-woman musical comedy spectacular Love in Concert!, featuring original parody “Saungs” from her fictional album Saungs for a Perfect Marriage, and her audience-driven “Love Lezzons,” where she improvises relationship advice based on real dating dilemmas, Saundra blends satire, theater, and audience participation into a joyful exploration of love and the absurdities of modern romance.

    For Robertson, drag is not an escape from serious scholarship. It is another form of historical inquiry. A way of asking: Who gets to be visible and who gets to imagine another version of themselves?

    “By doing drag as a community mixer, it combines celebration of individual identity with a commitment to bringing us together and building real human connection.”

    Remembering People Well

    Robertson’s projects repeatedly return to forgotten voices.

    His genealogy project, Ancestory, transforms family history into narrative experience. It asks people to confront their ancestors honestly, not as perfect heroes or permanent villains, but as complicated human beings shaped by their circumstances. Ancestory weaves together rigorous archival archeology and inspired people-centered storytelling, fostering an accessible personalized journey through your family tree. This unique ancestry experience is curated by Robertson.

    jakeaustinrobertson.com

    The play Songbird continues this work by exploring the life of Vadim Kozin (1903–1994), a queer Soviet cabaret icon whose career was transformed by Stalinist repression. Known as the “Soviet tango king,” his powerful, lyrical voice blended traditional Russian romance with gypsy soul.

    In 1944, at the height of his fame, Kozin suddenly vanished from public life. He was arrested by the Soviet secret police and charged with homosexuality, which was criminalized under Joseph Stalin’s regime. Convicted and sentenced to hard labor, Kozin became the star of the Gulag Theater of Magadan.

    The details shift but the mechanisms remain. The attempt to silence certain identities is an attempt to decide whose lives are worthy of recognition.

    Vadim Kozin

    Near the end of our conversation, Robertson considers a thought experiment: What if tomorrow every archive disappeared? Every book. Every historical document. Every official record. What would remain?

    Human storytelling.

    What stories would they fight hardest to preserve?

    The stories of connection and creativity. The stories of people who found ways to remain human in the face of inhuman circumstances.

    “I guess what comes to mind,” Robertson says, “is that there is something in us all that connects us.”

    A historian might hesitate because such a statement is difficult to prove. But Robertson has spent their life witnessing it. In Soviet archives and on theatrical stages. In classrooms and in moments of performance and vulnerability.

    “There is something that does unite us at our core. And it can be seen by people of vastly different experiences.”

    Perhaps that is the thread running through everything Jake Robertson does.

    The historian searches the past for forgotten voices. The teacher shares knowledge across cultures. The storyteller preserves complexity. The performer creates spaces where people can be fully seen. And beneath it all is a belief that may be the most radical story of all: Even in the darkest places, human beings continue creating. They continue connecting. They continue telling one another:

    I see you.

  • R.E.M Beauty Top 5 Products

    R.E.M Beauty Top 5 Products

    Whether you’re an avid makeup connoisseur or a major Ariana Grande fan, R.E.M Beauty is an excellent makeup brand for anyone seeking high-quality, reasonably priced beauty products. As a long-time “Ariantor” myself, I decided it was long overdue to look into Grande’s beauty line. I’m pleased to report that I was thoroughly impressed by several products and am eager to share my top 5 favorites!

    1. On Your Collar Classic Lipstick

    This is a particularly smooth, lightweight, and easy-to-apply lipstick with a hydrating formula, creamy texture, and vivid color. The lipstick is also uniquely designed with a long, thin shape that ensures easy and precise application. The pigment is saturated and long-lasting, perfect for everyday or more formal makeup. 

    1. At the Borderline Eyeliner Marker 

    This waterproof liner, named after one of my favorite Grande songs, has a precise felt tip, making the application effortless and sharp. And it dries incredibly fast so you won’t need to worry about smudging. The marker comes in various colors and is perfect for creating a clean, bold wing that will last you all day. 

    1. Full Night’s Sleep Cooling Undereye Balm

    While primarily a makeup brand, R.E.M Beauty also features skincare products, such as this cooling undereye balm. This product soothes and moisturizes the skin on contact for instantly brighter, well-rested appearance. Its ingredients feature antioxidants, caffeine, and mushroom extract that helps blur imperfections, reduce puffiness, and clear dark circles. It can be worn alone or used as a primer for eye makeup.

    1. Flourishing Lengthening Mascara

    This mascara is impressively weightless and buildable, gripping and elongating your lashes for natural definition without clumping or fallout. Uniquely formulated with a nourishing blend of naturally derived bamboo powder and Tahitian microalgae, this mascara is free of microplastics, parabens, silicone, and mineral oil. The molded brush is designed with equal distribution of bristles to paint and separate every lash, with a tapered tip to help reach the inner corner. I love how buildable it is as well as how quickly it dries. It provides the perfect tint and lengthening effect.

    1. Eclipse Blush and Lipstick

    Now I was most excited to try this product as I have been obsessed with liquid and cream blushes, and the Eclipse Blush and Lipstick did not disappoint. This 2-in-1 stick has quickly become my favorite new beauty discovery of 2026. It’s a versatile product that provides a creamy, buildable color with a long-lasting finish. With impressive ingredients like ultra-hydrating jojoba seed oil and antioxidant-rich grapefruit extracts, this blush glides right onto the skin for both a natural and a striking look, depending on your desired look. I have used it every day for work, going out, and formal occasions.

    With the sleek, space-themed packaging, high quality products, and easy application, R.E.M Beauty is a worthwhile investment for your beauty bag. These top 5 selections are perfect for all occasions and formulated with impressive ingredients. Several of these products have become staples in my day-to-day routines, and I hope they will for you as well.

  • Comedian Tuesday Thomas to Perform at Hudson Theatres

    Comedian Tuesday Thomas to Perform at Hudson Theatres

    Comedian and trans icon Tuesday Thomas, often referred to as the “Punk Rock Dolly Parton,” is performing at the Hudson Theatres in Los Angeles on July 25. According to Thomas, “People can expect an unhinged wild ride through the lens of a character you will swear is real!”

    Thomas is the subject of the award-winning documentary The Trash Goes Out On Tuesday, currently streaming on Tubi, and her comedy special Tuesday’s Trash is available on Amazon Prime. She recently wrapped a series of shows at the Hollywood Fringe Festival and hosts a monthly live comedy show, Altered Reality.

    Also known as the “Tik Tok Tranma,” Thomas uses her experiences as an out trans woman to inspire others. She has been featured on VH1, MTV, E!, and BBC, and can be seen regularly at legendary venues like The Comedy Store and The Laugh Factory.

    You can see her holdover show, Confessions of a Groupie or How I F’ed Jim Morrison The Night He Died but I Didn’t Kill Him on Sat, Jul 25 at 7:00 PM.

    Tickets are $20, available at onstage411.com

  • Pickle Introduces “Some Like It Hot” at the Academy Museum

    Pickle Introduces “Some Like It Hot” at the Academy Museum

    The Academy Museum of Motion Pictures in Los Angeles celebrated the career of Marilyn Monroe with an exhibition in her honor: “Marilyn Monroe: Hollywood Icon,” featuring screenings of her films as well as original photographs, scripts, letters, costumes, and rare personal items on display for the first time ever.

    On Thursday, June 2, the museum screened a 4K restoration of Some Like It Hot, with Drag Laureate of West Hollywood, Pickle, presenting the film.

    Wearing a recreation of one of Monroe’s many iconic costumes from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Pickle inspired the audience with her discussion of the icon and her history with Some Like It Hot, calling the film “quintessentially Marilyn.”

    After she praised Monroe’s performance, Pickle compared the control Monroe exerted over her image and presentation to that of a drag queen, stating:

    “In drag, we conceal aspects of ourselves with big hair and makeup, or padding or costuming, but the irony is that in doing so we reveal a deeper truth about who we are. I like to say that in acting, you’re always in service of a bigger story being told, but in drag, you are the story. Marilyn embodied that, both in her work and her public life, and was very intentional about the story of Marilyn.”

    Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot is a classic comedy from 1959 known for its queer undertones. The film stars Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon as two down-on-their-luck jazz musicians who disguise themselves as women after witnessing a mob murder, hiding out in an all-female band.

    Curtis and Lemmon spend the majority of their screentime in drag and often find themselves in overtly queer scenarios like when Lemmon is courted by a wealthy retiree and seems to genuinely express excitement over his marriage proposal.

    A drag performer named Barbette, a popular female impersonater from Paris in the 1920s/30s, was even hired on set to teach Curtis and Lemmon how to impersonate women.

    This queer material was very bold for the 1950s. All Hollywood movies at the time were expected to receive a seal of approval from the Motion Pictures Producers and Distributors of America but Some Like it Hot was considered too inappropriate. However, despite the disapproval of the Hays office, the studio released the film anyways and it ended up performing extremely well, which helped loosen censorship in Hollywood down the line.

    For those who missed this screening and any others in the Monroe series, the exhibition will remain open through February 2026, and the screenings will return in the fall. Specific dates are yet to be announced.

  • ‘¡Afuera!’: Historical Queer Publications Showcased at LA Art Book Fair

    ‘¡Afuera!’: Historical Queer Publications Showcased at LA Art Book Fair

    The Queerest attended Printed Matter’s exhibition ‘¡Afuera!: Publishing Queer Liberation’ at its 13th annual LA Art Book Fair, which took place from May 7 to 10, 2026, at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, California.

    ¡Afuera! marked the debut L.A. exhibition of several historical publications and print ephemera published in the 1960s and 1970s by members of three radical coalitions: New York’s Gay Liberation Front (GLF) and Third World Gay Revolution (TWGR), and Argentina’s Frente de Liberación Homosexual of Argentina (FLH). The exhibition’s rare posters, flyers, newsletters, and magazines shed light on the organizing and publishing efforts of a network of determined social, political, and cultural activists of the era. 

    ¡Afuera! highlights the work of graphic artist Juan Carlos Vidal and poet-photographer Néstor Latrónico, gay activists who emigrated from Argentina to New York City in 1968 to find a new community. Vidal and  Latrónico collaborated on illustration and graphic design for the GLF’s newspaper, Come Out!, and for the FLH’s publication Afuera and its bulletin Somos. Examples of their publications, including all issues of Somos and a mock-up cover of Come Out!, were on display. 

    Vidal and Latrónico used visually striking, often colorful publications to draw attention to their queer activism and their messages of intersectional liberation, anti-imperialism, and anti-capitalism. The exhibition highlights the role that artist- and community-run printing projects played in sharing resources and information among queer activists in a pre-Internet age.

    Original cover mock-up of Come Out! Issue 8, Winter 1972, published by the Gay Liberation Front of New York. Courtesy Archivos Desviados.

    The exhibition is drawn from the New York-based collection of Archivos Desviados, which was created by Argentinian-born archivist Juan Queiroz in 2019. The ongoing, independent archive preserves thousands of historical documents from queer movements. 

    Learn more at printedmatter.org/afuera, and follow Archivos Desviados on Instagram @archivosdesviados.

  • A Place for Kink at Pride

    A Place for Kink at Pride

    Every year during Pride month, there is a surge of negative reactions online (and in person) regarding who Pride is for and to what degree. This is particularly salient for kink at Pride. Posts and news stories routinely question why kink is even at Pride. Just a sampling of kink-related Pride posts I found on Instagram offered such original comments as: 

    “Freaks.” 

    “Kink gear in a public area around minors is weird though am i too woke r sum”

    “Keep it in your home.” 

    This type of reaction is unsurprising. Virtually anything furry, kinky, or fetish-adjacent has become increasingly scrutinized amongst the LGBTQ+ community. However, this raises a question that frequently emerges in June as Pride (at least in the United States) becomes more of a focal point: Who belongs at Pride? 

    As celebrations, parades, and parties kick into high gear to celebrate all aspects of the LGBTQ+ community throughout the month, the kink community is a recurring, easy target. 

    While I am not the definitive voice in the matter by any means, the answer seems obvious to me, of course, kink belongs at Pride. Pride is for all within the LGBTQ+ community, and, surprise, surprise, there are a great number of us who also have kinks or fetishes. Additionally, there’s an exhaustive history within the LGBTQ+ community that directly addresses kinks and fetishes; there are artistic influences that go back centuries; there’s cultural heritage, and a celebration of an individual’s sexual orientation and sexual identity could be easily connected to sexual interests.  

    The question of kink’s place at Pride almost becomes a boring one. For most within the LGBTQ+ community (myself included), we are at least aware of the histories of our community more so than those on the periphery of the community. Even the most supportive of allies may draw a blank if questioned about Tom of Finland, Saint Sebastian, or Saint Andrew and his cross. 

    There will always be outrage about displays at Pride events, regardless of whether kink is there or not. A completely “vanilla” Pride event would still be derided by those with preconceived notions and deeply embedded homophobia. If someone already has a distrust or negative view of anything even remotely queer-related, they will find a means to continue advocating for that hate. Suppressing displays of kink, then, in an attempt at appeasement, is a fruitless and even regressive endeavor.       

    But what about individuals who are enthusiastic about Pride, allyship, or who may be in the LGBTQ+ community itself, but are uninterested in or even disturbed by kink? Shouldn’t we, as a welcoming community, then at least accommodate those who would otherwise be open but could be uncomfortable seeing, say, a rubber gimp or a leather daddy? 

    (Insert The Simpsons, “Won’t someone please think of the children?”) 

    Or worse! The corporate sponsors! After all, we cannot have a pup on all fours in front of a Raytheon float.  

    The point of Pride is not to make everyone completely comfortable. It never will be, nor ever should be. Pride’s origins as a political movement in the 1960s and 70s—alongside Stonewall, “Gay is Good,” and the Christopher Street Liberation Day—were to equate living one’s authentic self without shame. That act may itself make people—particularly outsiders of the community—uncomfortable. 

    As a commemoration of the first Stonewall Riot, “Pride” as a term was coined by L. Craig Schoonmaker as a means to counteract the immense social shame directed at the LGBTQ+ community. Schoonmaker said, “The poison was shame, and the antidote [was] pride.” At the time, people were “very repressed, they were conflicted internally and didn’t know how to come out and be proud. That’s how the movement was most useful, because they thought, ‘Maybe I should be proud’”

    Isn’t then the truest essence of Pride being able to showcase one’s kink and fetish interests without the often-internal conflict associated with enjoying them? 

    Many kinks are still derided and ridiculed today, even by members of the LGBTQ+ community. It can be easy to point and mock kinks and individuals who engage in them. Look at the reaction to former Department of Homeland Security Advisor Kristi Noem’s husband, Bryon, and the revelation of his “bimboification” kink. This is a type of role-playing in which someone pretends to be a stereotypical bimbo or Barbie doll. The ridicule can focus on the hypocrisy associated with the Noems and their rampant animosity towards the LGBTQ+ community (particularly the trans community), but shouldn’t be towards the kink itself. But that level of nuance in discussion is often ignored.

    This can then lead many (arguably most) people to keep their own kink and fetish interests fiercely private, to avoid ridicule or ostracization. This itself can have a ripple effect, as these individuals remain unaware of how many others share those interests and how safe it can be to explore between consenting adults. From bondage to gear to roleplaying, there’s no shortage of kinks for everyone interested. But many do not believe they can or should engage in these. Where else but at a Pride celebration could one in this situation learn more about kinks and meet those who could illuminate them? 

    As for the ‘keep it to the bedroom’ argument with kink, Pride provides safety in numbers. Many people just starting to dip their toes into kink could risk physical or emotional harm with someone else who may lack proper knowledge or expertise in some kinks, such as bondage or impact play, in an isolated setting. Demonstrations, educational courses, and communal settings serve as ideal places to ask questions, engage, be curious, and reduce taboos. In today’s often reactionary world, Pride can be one of the few genuine opportunities people have for this. 

      Individuals who have the chance to showcase kinks and genuine interest or curiosity at Pride can learn a great deal about themselves, too, and become all the more personally courageous and introspective as a result. 

    On a personal note, after a few years of skipping Pride celebrations, in 2022, I returned to Pride celebrations, given that a former high school classmate of mine had been arrested as part of a thwarted white supremacist riot at an Idaho-based Pride celebration. I had known him for years, had gone to lunches with him with classmates and other friends, and was shocked and horrified to see this white nationalist turn and vitriol towards Pride. 

    So, I got a rubber tank top, some splashy pants, and even some impressive leather boots, and strutted my stuff at Denver Pride. If for nothing else than to show, this was a hell of a lot better look than whatever lame tough guy cosplay these hate-mongers would ever hope to wear. But in a more real sense, I did it because I wanted to be proud of who I was and could be. That is the core of Pride’s existence. No matter what hate, ridicule, or mockery countless others may throw, Pride should be a beacon of hope for self-expression.  

  • VFX Artist Calls Out AI Use in RuPaul’s“Stop! That! Train!”

    VFX Artist Calls Out AI Use in RuPaul’s“Stop! That! Train!”

    In the weeks leading up to its theatrical release, RuPaul’s upcoming comedy Stop! That! Train! has been under immense scrutiny for its alleged use of AI-generated special effects. 

    Much of the controversy started when Gloria Cook, a VFX artist and experimental filmmaker, attended the film’s premiere in New York on May 28 and posted a review on Letterboxd shortly after, writing, “It’s one of the most conspicuous uses of AI I’ve seen in a film, with a lot of VFX looking like gen AI… Confirmed in the end credits that Acme AI was the top-billed VFX company on the film.”

    After similar allegations rapidly spread across the internet, Shankman addressed the controversy on June 3, posting an official statement on Instagram, stressing that the movie was “made by human hands.” However, he notably did not address the undeniable collaboration with AI VFX companies.

    Cook, now clapping back at Shankman’s vehement denial, released a video pointing out several discrepancies in the movie, visible even in the film’s trailer.

    The train, for example, appears with a different number of windows in various shots, a suspicious detail since human VFX artists would have reused the same CG model for different shots. There would be no purpose in recreating and intentionally changing the amount and placement of windows.

    Additionally, there is a shot of the train crossing a bridge with one of its support legs completely missing, another highly suspicious detail.

    The IMDb credits list 26 compositing artists but not a single 3D or CG artist. No one is credited with creating the train assets, only with combining assets. While there is a chance that the IMDb credits are incomplete, Cook notes that “it feels like an odd omission, especially when these VFX shots could only be done with CGI… or AI. And AI requires no animators, only compositors to clean up shots and combine elements together.”

    Cook adds that proving these effects were not AI-generated would be fairly easy. “All [Shankman] has to do is post wireframes of these scenes to show off the 3D models.”

    But instead, he released a very carefully worded statement, dancing around the issue:

    Claiming that the movie doesn’t contain any “fully generative AI shots” (emphasis on “fully”) and that not a single shot was “conceived by AI” does not dispute the accusation that AI was used to generate special effects that would have otherwise been created by a human.

    Generative AI is extremely harmful to the environment, with data centers increasing carbon dioxide emissions and pressure on the electric grid, straining municipal water supplies, and disrupting local ecosystems. On top of that, it takes jobs away from actual people. But of course, it is faster and cheaper for a company to use generative AI than to pay a human being. So the only thing we can do to stop it is to make our anger known. Filmmakers must be held accountable for using generative AI; otherwise, its use in the film industry will only grow and become normalized. 

  • QUEER x hope you have a good time: New Art Show in LA

    QUEER x hope you have a good time: New Art Show in LA

    QUEER x hope you have a good time is an art show in Mid-City Los Angeles, bringing together over 20 artists responding to the following quote from Bell Hooks:

    “[queer] not as being about who you’re having sex with – that can be a dimension of it – but queer, as being about the self that is at odds with everything around it and has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.”

    HYHAGT × QUEER explores the self at odds with the surrounding world, featuring art installations from 20+ artists, tarot card reading, community art experiences, donation-based drinks, and a DJ set by Emily Alegria.

    The marketplace and gallery will be open on May 30th from 5-10pm.

    Click here to RSVP

  • RuPaul’s Drag Race Star, Honey Davenport, Wins IML

    RuPaul’s Drag Race Star, Honey Davenport, Wins IML

    RuPaul’s Drag Race star, Honey Davenport, wins IML (International Mister Leather) 2026, a multi-day competition and fetish event based in Chicago.

    Davenport is best known for her appearance on season 11 of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Seven years later, they are revealing a whole new side of themselves to the world. 

    After moving to Palm Springs and finding a sense of community in the local gay leather scene, Davenport realized this was more than an interest but a passion. After winning Mr. Palm Springs Leather, IML was the next logical step.

    During the contest, Davenport introduced themselves to the audience with the same line they used on Drag Race: “There’s only one thing you need to know about me. This honey is raw and unfiltered.”

    Shortly before the final night of the contest, Davenport took to instagram to say:

    “When I walked into the work room of [Drag Race], I said my tag line. When I walked on The [IML] stage, I spoke my truth. Same words with new meanings.”

    After their win, Davenport shared “And just like that history was made. I am your new [Mister International Leather] 2026. This was definitely a hard one but well worth the blood, sweat and tears. I am so grateful for all of kind words, hard work, and sponsorship my community gave me on this journey. Together we brought this sash home.”

    Davenport is the first Drag Race queen to win the title and marks the second year in a row that the title has gone to a Mr Palm Springs titleholder. The runners-up this year were Sgt. Alex (Mr. Cincinnati Leather 2025) and Denzel Belin (Mr. Twin Cities Leather 2026).