Movie Review: Gun Hill Road

Every five or six years a movie comes along that has the potential to radically alter the popular dialogue around a particular issue or topic. The film generally tells a story from a new, distinct perspective, provides a stark, harsh, gentle, funny, and human point of view about a situation or situations that are broadly relevant but largely ignored or only talked about behind closed doors. The "what goes on in this house, stays in this house," silences that so many of us know too well.

Once every five or six years a movie comes along that I wish every single person on the planet could be compelled to watch.

Gun Hill Road is one of those movies.

The story is simple. Set in the South Bronx, A father (Esai Morales) returns from prison after suffering sexual violence while an inmate to find his family much changed since he left. His wife (Judy Reyes), in his absence, found comfort with another man, and his son, Michael, is in the process of becoming Vanessa (Harmony Santana), the women Michael was born to be.

What ensues is a raw look at what it means to walk in brown skin, poor skin, incarcerated skin, sexually violated skin, gender non-comforming skin, transitioning skin, transcultural skin, machista skin, mother's skin, father's skin, urban skin and all connected through a tapestry of blood and street kinship, families of choice and families of survival and running throughout the whole thing a literal and spiritual poetry that gives life.

This movie was sometimes funny, sometimes sensual, sometimes deep, and sometimes light but it was never for a moment disconnected or artificial not even when Vanessa goes for her first silicon injection.

Esai Morales gives the performance of a lifetime, and I would not be surprised if this doesn't earn him an Oscar nomination. Judy Reyes, most often known as the witty and sassy Dominicana from Scrubs proves that she is a soulful actress whose talent and range runs deep. And newcomer Harmony Santana, a trans woman who quite literally was beginning her own physical transition during the filming of this movie is reminiscent of Gabriel Sidibe....a brilliant newcomer that ties the entire story together.

Rashaad Ernesto Green, I had a chance to hear you speak at the Angelika on August 5th. Congratulations on a brilliant piece of work. Keep it humble my friend, but be proud of what you have accomplished.

And for the rest of you, get your ass out and see this movie. Now.

Interview with a Man Who Tells The Damn Truth: Kenyon Farrow

In 2006, I received a phone call from my best friend RJ. He told me that he had a friend in NYC that was touring the country promoting a new anthology: Letters from Young Activists: Today's Rebels Speak Out. The man was Kenyon Farrow. A few weeks later he walked into my my studio and my life. The friendship and the association has been one where I have found myself constantly and urgently challenged through the honest way in which Kenyon lives, works, writes, and struggles. Kenyon has enough manic energy that there are times I want to stick a plug in his ass and power my apartment. ConEdison better watch out. He is brilliant and passionate; anyone that had a chance to hear his speech at Creating Change in Denver last February on the realities of HIV/AIDS and the black community, will know that when Kenyon tells the damn truth people jump up and say amen. This Midwestern brother from another mother of mine is someone that I honor, that honors my community, and that lives the shit he talks about.

Months ago, Kenyon was featured in Out Magazine as one of 2008's Out 100. At that time, I asked him if he would be willing to be interviewed for my blog. He said yes. Now, 3/4 of a year later, I finally got him the interview questions. Know Kenyon. Listen to Kenyon. You will be a better human being for it.

1.) In 2008, Out Magazine named you one of the Out 100. You were one of a very few people of color on that list. What did that "honor" mean to you? What does it mean that there were so few people that looked like you on that list?

KF: Well I was honored by the Out 100 nomination precisely because it was people of color who told the editors at Out that I should be nominated, so it was definitely nice to be recognized by other people of color who think highly of my work. I guess in terms of the lack of representation of Black people or other people of color on the list, is simply reflective of gay magazines in general, so I guess I had low expectations in that department to begin with. Sometimes I do those kinds of publications or engage more mainstream outlets because I think about those black gay boys like me, in places like Ohio, who may only have access to these mainstream publications, or who may not have black gay activists or spaces that have a certain political vision I have. So for me, it is important to me to reach them, the same way I found Barbara Smith's work in a cheesy gay bookstore in Columbus, OH. I would not have had access to that kind of political work in Ohio otherwise. I sometimes worry about people critiquing me for making that choice, or calling me a media whore or something, but the reality is not everyone who has an interest in certain kinds of political discussions or ideas reads some underground zine or even a progressive magazine. My family is super-politically engaged and some of the most politically astute people I know, but they do not, and never have read The Nation, let alone something even smaller. So I sometimes engage mainstream stuff to get my work out to people that are not "The Left".

2.) You have been a tireless advocate, researcher, and speaker on issues relating to HIV and queer people of color, specifically youth and African-Americans. I was at the speech you gave at Creating Change this year. Whooo child. In an America that believes itself post-AIDS, how is your work different than HIV/AIDS Advocacy, say, in the early 90s?

KF: Thanks for the compliment on that speech. I am really humbled by the impression it (and the rest of my co-panelists) left on the attendees (Editor's Note: Bishop Yvette Flunder also let us all have it). In any case, I think that my work on HIV/AIDS in some respects looks more like some of the work in the 1980's and early 1990's, that really understood the AIDS epidemic in the US as a manifestation of other kinds of injustice, as opposed to a manifestation of problematic behaviors that we need to teach "certain" people to curb. Other than that, I think that my work is not only about drawing together the issues that are driving the epidemic among black gay/bi men and black trans women, but also to just actually remind people that the epidemic didn't go anywhere. I am beginning to hear a lot of gay organizations saying that they "don't do AIDS" anymore, and I think we need to call them out on that shit too.

3.) You are HIV-, what does it mean to do significant work in the black queer positive community while both being a part of and being distinct from that community? How do you integrate and organize around economic justice issues as a negative person while supporting the positive community?

or

You are HIV+, how does your HIV status inform your work both as an advocate but also an organizer for social and economic justice?

KF: I am actually glad you asked my HIV status to some extent. I think it is something I struggle with how to talk about as an AIDS activist. I am HIV negative, but I don't know how to talk about that in a way that doesn't seem like I am trying to let everybody know, I don't have it. Kinda like when straight allies to queers always have to remind people that they're straight. How dreadful. The fact remains, that though I do not have HIV, I am personally impacted by the epidemic in that several family members have died of AIDS, and probably half of my black gay/bi men and transwomen friends are positive. Not having HIV does not mean that it doesn't impact my life in some very dramatic ways on a daily basis. As consistent as I am with practicing safe sex and whatnot, I am beginning to feel the need to begin to talk and write more publicly about feeling like condoms as the only real strategy I have is not something I don't know that I can maintain for the rest of my natural born life. I am almost 35, and have been having sex with men for about 15 years. And if I am lucky I have another 50+ years, and I plan to have sex for as much of that time, as often as I can. LOL!!! Am I supposed to wear condoms all the time for the next 50 years? It makes no fucking sense, but that's all we got right now. And I am tired. And given the HIV rates among gay men in general, and certainly among Black men, the idea that I can sero-sort my way through it for the next 50 years is just fucking ridiculous. And I am almost afraid to say that, but fuck it. It's the truth and people need to hear it. As much stigma as there is for HIV+ black gay men, there is no space for negative men to say any of this. We're treated like we ought to be fucking glad to not have it. But the odds are so against us and we're so traumatized by the spectre of contracting HIV, or having witnessed the death of friends and family and nobody being able to talk about it, or people being ostracized, negative men are carrying the weight of this too. And if that's the case, being negative doesn't seem like much to fucking celebrate--the impact of the virus and what it means is kicking your natural ass anyway. And that's the truth that is so scary to say out loud. But as you can tell, I am tired of holding this. And I think it is this kind of frank discussions about sex and sexuality for Black gay men as it pertains to HIV is where I want to go with my work--ground my political writing about AIDS in my own sex life. We can sometimes cloak ourselves in "the issues" and not be brave enough to tell our own truths for fear of being judged often in our professional spaces, and by people we can't fucking stand anyway.. Well, I am about to throw caution to the goddam wind.

4. In addition to being a tireless advocate for health issues, you are also known (and worshipped) as a leader in the economic justice movement and its intersection within and throughout queer communities...talk about how you frame issues of HIV/AIDS in the context of economic justice?

KF: Well there was a study that recently came out, where they interviewed 1,115 Black and Latino men who have sex with men in Philly and NYC about how they identify-gay, bi, down-low or some other term. 35% of them made less than $5,000 a year. Now they used money incentives to recruit people, so that skewed the number of poor men who participated in the study very high, and also the number of HIV+ men who already knew they're status high. But that should tell you something about where the epidemic is--among poor black and Latino gay men. Or the impact of getting and HIV diagnosis actually increases one's likelihood of becoming poor if you weren't already. If that diagnosis means you are socially isolated from family or communities of origin, who do you rely on to get needs met in times of hardship? What if you can't afford treatment if you have no health insurance? If you're working in a low-wage job with little benefits or with no sick days or vacation, how do you take time off for doctor's appointments without raising the suspicion of co-workers or your boss? Medicaid is the largest insurer of people with HIV. If you're transgender woman or just a gay man who like to press your hair or wear nails, where do they even get work in the overground economy anyway--performing drag, or maybe working the MAC counter at the local mall, or maybe in a beauty salon. Those are your options and not everybody can or wants to to that kind of work. To me, there are some very clear reasons that HIV is an economic justice issue, and yet, no economic justice organizations that I know of even mention it. But QEJ is going to be at least putting this kind of analysis out in the world soon.

5.)You are also a brilliant writer...if folks want to read more about you, your work, and what you are doing, how can they find out more about you?

KF: Well, the tension I have now is that the activism, and the demands of working at QEJ which is a full plate on top of the other work I do, is taking me more and more away from my writing, and is keeping me from actually working on my own book project, which I am really desperately trying to do. But folks should check my blog, www.kenyonfarrow.com and I am also writing for this new site called TheGrio.com pretty regularly, so check me out there as well. Lastly, I am co-editing a book that should be out next year called A New Queer Agenda on NYU Press. It's a project of QEJ--a collection of writing critiquing the mainstream LGBT movement, as well as pieces about how other racial and economic justice issues impact the lives of queers. I co-authored a piece in the book about the "War on Drugs" and queer communities with gabriel o. sayegh, who works with the Drug Policy Alliance.

I Want to Punch Perez Hilton In The Face Too!

Every day you have to take the good with the ugly. Sometimes there is a dash of the down right ridiculous in the mix that makes you step back, have a shot of something to blind your sperm, and start again.

Today was one of those days. I am going to alternate the good, the ugly, and the ridiculous.

Let's start with the good.

This afternoon I was communicating with an acquaintance of mine, Sñr. Noris Chavarria, when he told me that he had just been looking at my blog. Now, I just met Noris week before last at the Sol Awards Gala at the Battery Park Cafe. I was impressed that he had come across my blog, so I asked him where he had encountered it. He told me that he had come across it on another blog, MiApogeo.com. Curious, I tuned my browser to MiApogeo.com, which is an amazing pan-Latino news source on the web, only to find a listing of the top seven LGBT Latin@ bloggers to watch. I was listed as #2 right after my friend and compay Andrés Duque. I almost shit myself in surprise. I was listed with other blogosphere luminaries as Charlie Vázquez of Spittles the Clown fame, and Gloria Nieto, who I met when I was barely 21 years old and had fallen in dire love with Lonnie Tapia, one of Gloria's protégés in New Mexico.

That was definitely a highlight of the day. But, hand in hand with a taste of glory comes a little reality to keep you grounded.

This weekend past, I received my benefits package from Bard College. Now, one of my regular bitching moments is about David and the fact that he hasn't had health care since leeching was a popular practice. In order to add David to my health care plan,we had to sign a statement assuring Blue Cross Blue Shield that we are, indeed, domestic partners. It was necessary for us to take said form to a notary public and sign it in front of said notary. We can't get married but we have to jump through hoops and rope cattle to get a decent dental plan. Anywho, during our first trip to Chase this morning to do our due diligence, I had forgotten my ID, and so it was a no go. Mission aborted. Fall back, regroup and plan a new route of attack.

Basically, we decided to come back after nap time.

So, after David had lapsed into unconsciousness after a particularly grueling hell day at the gym, we ventured back to Chase. I had my ID, we signed the form, said “I do,” and badda bing badda boom...we were an official couple in the eyes of God and Empire Blue Cross Blue Shield. Amen.

David was so tickled that he loosened his death grip on the debit card and suggested we amplify my summer wardrobe beyond the two pair of shorts I had that I purchased two summers ago. We swung through Daffy's, which owes me new retinas from the assault on my eyes from the ultraviolet and ultra ugly clothing they had on the rack. We decided to try our luck at Old Slavy, excuse me, Old Navy instead. Now, we had carried our precious declaration of domestic partnership form in a manila envelope, which also held extra copies of a document I had created for a work meeting last evening. I was holding the envelope, wondering why I was carrying around said extra documents, when I suggested to David that we just chuck the thing. He said that he would carry it as he didn't want to waste paper. I poo-pooed him and dropped the envelope in a trash receptacle at the NQRW stop at 57th and 7th.

We got to 14th Street and Union Square when we realized that our notarized love declaration was inside the abandoned envelope.

Talk about STOOOOOPID.

We hopped the train, retrieved the document, and decided that God didn't want me to have new shorts if he was willing to let me do something as dumbass as all that business.

We headed home, and I finished up my work day. It was then that I was told the second best news of the day:

This weekend, Perez Hilton was punched dead in his eye by Will.I.Am and his bodyguard for talking smack about the latest Black Eyed Peas CD.

From deep inside me welled up a great feeling of diabolical joy....from my toes to my cockles to my cock, I was rigid with delight. I was immediately filled with a joyous jealousy...joyous that he had gotten his fat ass ugly bitchtastic face smacked...jealous because I wanted to smack the hell out of him too.

A girl can dream. But...the joy could only last for a short time.

My best friend and I have been like two ships passing in the night or two trains on a Metro rail line in DC. I haven't decided which one yet.

I had plans tonight to meet RJ at five til seven at Sokka Gokkai International in the village for gongyo (chanting). RJ and I have been trying to see each other, without success, for several weeks now. RJ and Noel have been dealing with some difficult family stuff lately, so I left home early, stopped at the Trader Joe's Wine Shop and picked up a gift bottle of wine for RJ. I arrived at SGI five minutes earlier than I was expected. 6:55 came and went. At 6:57 I sent RJ a text asking him where he was. At 7:05 I went upstairs, late, for the service. I sat in the back, so I could scan the crowd and keep an eye on the door in case he came in. The service ended, and I left. I sent RJ a text saying that I hoped he was OK, but I was on my way home.

He finally responded, once I was on the train, saying that he had been at gongyo. I told him that I had waited for 15 minutes for him before going in, and he let me know that he had gone in early and had been chanting. DOH! I didn't see him inside, and we missed each other...again. I am going to go and sit outside of his damn house and wait for him to come out because, at this point, this is ridiculous.

Anywho. I came home, made a delectable din din, poured a glass of wine, and wrote this blog.

I still want to punch Perez Hilton in the face.

PS I forgot to mention that there was a hot Latino Daddy at the gym today that had an ass I would have happily pounded so hard he would have had to order a new assring when I was finished with him...that is until, in the locker room, I saw him checking out David's ass...and when he saw me see him checking out David's most definitely eye candy worthy ass...Mr. Hot Latin Daddy lost his damn mind and rolled his eyes at me. Cabron puto hijo de una maldita chingada!

I would still fuck him, but I would have to beat his ass afterwards. Some gays have no damn common sense.

Interview with a Clown: Charlie Vázquez/Spittles the Clown

A few months ago, my partner, artist David Berube, was wandering through the blogosphere and came across queer Latino writer and performer Charlie Vázquez's blog. David found Charlie on Facebook and told me that I should hit Charlie up. Since then, I have come to respect Charlie as a writer, performer, and fellow progressive queer lookin' to bust open this here world at the seams...look at the ugliness...and plant flowers in the mess.

When Charlie announced he would be doing a show at Dixon Place as Spittles the Clown, I was tickled. After a Facebook exchange, I decided that I would love to do an interview with Charlie/Spittles. And here it is:


So Charlie....Spittles the Clown....born shortly after 9/11....what is the connection between Spittles and that tragic day?

You know, I didn’t give it conscious attention at the time, but around the time of 9/11, I was babysitting my best friend’s toddler son and caught myself acting like a moron to entertain him many, many times. I’m the oldest of five kids, so I have a natural way of clowning and making them laugh. In terms of that horrific morning, Spittles became a symbolic “phoenix” if you will, a satircal survivor of horrors—thus his fascination with gore and all of the stuff people who are afraid of clowns associate clowns with. He definitely helped me laugh during a time when I didn’t laugh very much.


How does Spittles (a “straight” clown—whatever) intersect with your own sexual identity?

Well, the “straight” part about Spittles’ sexual identity is part of the comedy. He likes to remind people he’s “straight”, especially after he catches himself doing something really sissy, like putting his hands over his mouth and screaming like a cheerleader. But this is just a statement on the complexity of sexuality and how homophobia extends beyond same-sex preference. Spittles will often mention his ex-girlfriends (he never has one “right now”), but he knows who to go to when he needs to make a quick “buck”—if you know what I mean. That aspect of him I borrowed from closet bisexual friends I had in the past—hustlers. I really felt bad for them—bisexuals get unfair coverage and I can even admit that I endured a very short bisexual phase myself, as I made the transition to male queerdom from failed heterosexuality. I been there, mm-kay?


In a time that is, I hope, just re-emerging from a decade of sexual puritanism...how do you see Spittles, an openly fetish-focused character, pushing against the last ten years?

Oh honey—I could write a book on this one and don’t have the time, as I’m working on two—but—I’m very suspicious of sexual puritanism, on all levels. It’s just not natural—worse things are the result. Sex is a natural pleasure that we ought to be combigning with our intelligence (tall order, I know) to forge a healing tradition that reduces tension in our society. Looks what happens when people suppress their sexual curiosities—torture, murder, crime, etc. The Bush administration condemned queers and championed torture! What the f**k? This has to turn around—and as an unapologetic queer Latino pagan, I’ll even go as far as to say that churches need to start being “audited”, if you will, for encouraging negative treatment toward anyone. This is complicity, plain and simple. These ministers in question, and that horrible witch (The Pope) inspire violence and murderous behavior against queers. This era of patriarchal Christian hegemony must end and I will do whatever it takes to topple the church. If you want to get a driver’s licesnse, you have to take a test right? I think that all Christians should have to read the Bible (after they learn to read, if they can’t) for their own perspective on the scriptures. They ruin it for the nice, peaceful Christians, the real ones. The level of hypocrisy that sexual conservatism brews is devastating. People need to be educated sexually—this should reflect in less unwanted pregnancies and STDs. It needs to be discussed, not swept under the rug.


Spittles started off as a children's clown...and then transitioned into the leather/fetish scene...how did that come about?

Well, my first children’s party was a bomb, a disaster, and after the kids decided they hated me, I entertained their parents in the lounge. It’s also part of the show, so I can’t say too much about it. When two martini-swilling babes hit on me, I decided that my market was a more mature one. Then my “very gay” friend Mark suggested I seek out men with strange fetishes who were willing to pay top dollar for their fantasies. I was sent to a BDSM “master” and was trained. The rest I can’t say right now…(smiles)


You will be doing your show at Dixon Place...tell me why Dixon Place is an important venue to the queer community and to you as an artist.

You know, I just went for the first time last week, for a production meeting. It’s important for a lot of reasons—it’s a high-fi environment dedicated to the fringe, to queers. There are lots of divisions in the queer community—where we live, work and play. But I dare say that we have many things in common we hate to admit—I’ve always been a punk/subcultural-identified artist and writer and discovered underground music and crazy queers in the East Village during the 1980s when I was very young. Thus, where I spend my social time. The downtown performace scene needs an audience, plain and simple. We have become so accustomed to sitting in front of monitors that bring information and entertainment to us, that planning and going to an event can seem almost inconvenient. Dixon Place hosts a lot of burgeoning queer performance productions: movie screenings, photography exhibit slideshows, live music acts, spoken word culture—it’s important for people to support these things because we artists are writing our—and YOUR—history. No one else will do that for us. Attending a performance is participation in that event, it’s participating in queer history.


I mentioned before that I have an “alter-clown-ego” named Bubbles, who seems to be Spittles’ saintly twin brother. What role does Spittles play in opening up personal space for you to say and do, that you can't/won't/maybe would do as Charlie Vázquez?

I look at performing as Spittles as being “mounted” by a spirit if you will. It’s been a while since this has happened, but I know the chick is about to hatch soon. As Charlie I don’t call people “ugly” or sit in strangers’ laps! Spittles has been, and I hope will become again, a detour away from me—I’m a very regimented, driven person, so it’s nice to get into a freeform space and negotiate ideas and impulses differently. As an artist it’s different as well—I’m a manic perfectionsist when it comes to editing fiction and I try not to stray from my “tightrope” act in prose: I like to write things that are precarious and precise. As Spittles though, I compose a summary sequence of acts, bullets, if you will, which I have the liberty to stray from for improvising, which a live audience catches in “real time”.


How can the peoples see Spittles in person? And should Spittles arouse their desires...how can they see Charlie Vázquez the performer?

Spittles will be performing for the first time, in like a year, at Dixon Place, Lower East Side, Saturday May 30th. I’m part of a show called “Lips Like My Sugar Walls”, which has a very overt queer and sexual feel to it. There will be live music and multimedia entertainment. I’m one of two spoken word acts—the other is my hermana en palabras Karen Jaime. As for what Spittles will do for the audience—may that be a surprise! I hope he makes them laugh, though. It’s the best thing for the soul ever. Now Charlie is more visible these days—my PANIC! reading, which features queer fiction and poetry, falls on the last Wednesday of the month, at Nowhere. Wednesday May 27th will feature queer Latino/a readers and I’m hosting a queer writers of color reading, DOUBLE PRIDE PANIC!, which will be featuring you Brandon! I’m very excited about things right now. Interested parties can go to my blog and register to receive it to their email. I use it for reading annoucements and book review postings.

Info and tix: Dixon Place

Charlie’s blog: http://charlievazquez.wordpress.com

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Advanced Praise for It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt!

Advanced praise for my first solo book of poetry, due out at the end of September from Summerfolk Press, It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt.. Look soon for the release of a webpage for the book!

"Brandon Lacy Campos is part tomahawk thrower and part philosopher, a fresh voice of queer rebellion, an outsider talking of revolution, avenging exploitation. The stinging lashes on a slave’s back, the mystical incantations of native medicine men, the curiosities of an innocent white child and the cultural bisection of a bilingual Latino—these are the things he sees, as these are the things he is. These poems are monuments to the victims of abuse, to the splendor of visionary queer consciousness—to true America."

Charlie Vázquez, fiction writer, blogger and host of the queer East Village reading series, PANIC!