Dandies appeared on the page, stage, and European streets beginning in the nineteenth century, reaching into the twentieth century. Although these men were slaves to fashion, they pioneered a new mode of queer expression still emulated today, both in gender expression and in lifestyle. Here we’re exploring the dandy lifestyle as queer––not solely homosexual––with a particular focus on the dandy as asexual, an often ignored historical possibility. We’ll also take a closer look at the similarities between the dandy lifestyle, nonbinary gender expression, and asexuality.
In the course of this project, we’ve looked at dozens of stories, dozens of lives. The most excited and difficult part is often picking through all of the stories to find the truth. So often our stories are rewritten when we are no longer around the tell them. In uncovering our history, we must find the truth of the lives lived and not the truth we want.
To discuss the beginning of the “queer movement” is to find yourself digging for roots that go far deeper than anyone can imagine. Many people define the start of the queer movement with the Stonewall Riots, a political act in 1969 that sparked a revolution in America, a moment that may more accurately be described as one that turned the tides. Another commonly choice is found in the life and work of Magnus Hirschfeld, who revolutionized research surrounding queerness in all its forms, bringing people together and building a base we all now stand on. Today though, we look earlier to Karl Heinrich Ulrichs, a man who inspired Magnus Hirschfeld, and pushed the queer movement into the spotlight.
“Dr. Burou rectified the mistake nature had made and I became a real woman, on the inside as well as the outside. After the operation, the doctor just said, 'Bonjour, Mademoiselle', and I knew it had been a success.” — Jacqueline Charlotte Dufresnoy
For this week’s article, we will be going farther back than we have in a while, which also means we will be working with less information and primary sources than we usually have access to. Information about this man only became available in 1933 when the ancient city of Mari was discovered in Syria. There they discovered 20,000 tablets filled with writings. More than 3000 of these tablets are letters, one of which reveals that the King of Mari, Zimri-Lim, had male lovers. And that is who we will be looking at this week: a man who ruled Mari from 1775 B.C. until 1761 B.C. and led Mari through what is regarded as it’s most prosperous and peaceful years.
There is something powerful in reclaiming language. There’s the shock value of it, but it’s also a way to take back some of the power. It’s a way to navigate a difficult experience; it’s not right for every person, but for many, it’s empowering. For queer crips, it’s a way to connect, to reject, and to describe the experience of feeling trapped between two communities.
Magnus Hirschfeld is a name that’s been scattered through a number of our articles, and with good reason. He left behind a rich legacy; he became a cornerstone of his community and made history with every day he lived. Because of this, many people have worked to remember not only the man himself but also the values he lived by. Most notably, his motto “through science to justice”, has led many to preserve his legacy through education on queerness. It is here that we find the topic of this week’s article: The Magnus Hirschfeld Foundation.
“Because you have, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my heart … For you have made men to be not ashamed of the noblest instinct of their nature. Women are beautiful; but to some, there is that which passes the love of women.”
— Edward Carpenter in letter to Walt Whitman
Dawn Langley Hall is a rarity in our research, in that she has an autobiography. A writer herself and an experienced biographer, she took on the challenge of summing up her own life not one, but three times. Because of this, we are lucky to have access to fountains of information about her; unfortunately, much of it seems to be more fiction than non.
Goodbye 2017
To see history happening around us is a unique opportunity. Not always a pleasant one, but a unique one. And in 2017 we all got the chance to witness and grow together.
“To reject speechlessness, a process which has taken years, and to invent my own peculiar speech with which to describe my own peculiar self, to draw together everything I am and have been.” — Michelle Cliff
When studying queer history, especially asexual and aromantic history, silence is an immediate problem. The only way to know whether or not someone is asexual or aromantic is through their own identifying as such. The newness of asexual and aromantic communities and silence around sexual orientation has robbed us of this. Finding asexuality historically as an identity, instead of a choice or behavior, is often impossible. Instead of hoping for a definite answer, we must look at behavior, despite every claim that asexuality and aromanticism are identities, not behaviors, read between the lines, and accept that we may never know.
György Faludy ranks high on the list of revolutionary bisexual writers. Considering the people he shares that category with, that is no small thing. A Jewish man who was born in Hungary and spent most of his life in love with his home country, he was the picture of a patriot. In that, he got in scuffles with the state more than once. Upon finding, again and again, the affection he lavished upon his homeland to be unreturned, he lavished more, from a distance when he could. A man who was remembered as having “... lived everywhere, met everybody, and was ousted from everywhere,” in the invitation to his 95th birthday party, we are excited to discuss with you the life of György Faludy.
In this article, I will explore the life and impact of Menominee two-spirit lesbian activist, formidable writer, and fierce warrior with a blade to the throat of corruption and injustice; Chrystos. From a harsh upbringing riddled with sexual, physical and emotional abuse, mental illness, and the pain of surviving on the streets as a Native American in a world that silences their very existence, Chrystos self-educated themselves and became a voice for the broken, beaten, and oppressed. To this day, their accomplishments as an Indigenous rights activist and poet has been widely recognized, won numerous awards, and politics are an essential part of their writing with their life as a lesbian and Native American being unapologetically at the forefront of it all. For their own personal preferences, I will be using they/them/their pronouns.
The most famous picture of her—dark tousled hair cropped short and the whisper of a cheeky grin about her lips—is actually a mugshot, taken in 1961 for bookmaking. She ran a small betting system out of her place at Ev’s Eleventh Hour Sports Bar, taking patrons’ money for horseracing. Known for her skill and good humor, she had been brought into the police station and promptly let go. It was a minor charge, one that she conveniently never told her family back in Connecticut about. In most iterations, the placard with her charge and booking ID is cropped out of the image, leaving only the hint of the string blending into the plaid of her shirt. This is the picture that accompanied the 1964 New York Times headline:
37 Who Saw Murder Didn’t Call Police