The Lambda Literary Awards were announced this Thursday, and after my months of coverage leading up to the event, it is only fitting that I summarize the experience of the awards event for you here. If you would like to relive the moderately thorough liveblog experience you can read the Topside Press liveblog here. Here is an incredibly brief round up of notable winners:
Lots of good titles won, including Zoe Whittall’s Holding Still For As Long As Possible (Transgender Fiction) and Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, edited by Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman, and containing the work of an astounding 51 writers. Nominated in two categories, Gender Outlaws: TNG won in the extremely competitive LGBT Anthology category. The Transgender Non-Fiction category went to Balancing on the Mechitza: Transgender in Jewish Community edited by Noach Dzmura. The winner of the LGBT Sci-fi/Horror/Fantasy category was Diana Comet and Other Improbable Stories, by Sandra McDonald, and the titular character is a transwoman. The winner of Lesbian Debut Fiction was Sub Rosa by Amber Dawn, who was spotted at the Original Plumbing party in New York last night. Finally, in the spirit of transman/butch solidarity, I also feel compelled to include mention of Eileen Myles, who I had never seen in person before. Her book Inferno won for Lesbian Fiction, and I had the pleasure of discovering that she is basically the coolest human in the universe.
Edward Albee, The Cowardly Homosexual
The other highlight (lowlight?) of the evening was Edward Albee, who was being honored with a lifetime achievement award. He was introduced by his longtime friend, playwright Terrence McNally, who spent an great deal of his allotted time assuring the audience that Mr. Albee was, in fact, a homosexual. (It is arguable that Edward Albee’s plays aren’t particularly gay, though they are sexual, at times explicitly so, and I have always imagined that they exist to make fun of straight people.)
When it was Mr. Albee’s turn to speak he explained in great detail that he was not a gay writer, but that he was a writer who “just happened to be gay”. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was being honored at a gay* event that ostensibly celebrates gay authors who are interested in writing about gay subjects and publishing books with gay protagonists. The more he defensively droned on, the more I wished that he had stayed home. It wasn’t until he told us that he wasn’t “just gay” but that he was a part of “many minority groups.” That I got worries. And his explanation: “I’m white, I’m male, I’m educated. I’m creative.” Made me begin to fantasize about burning my copy of The Zoo Story.
He famously gave essentially the same speech at the Outwrite ’91 conference. As it devolved into narcissism and nonsense, all I could think about was that I hoped to God that I when I am an old man no one has to introduce me by clarifying that I’m queer. So thank you, Edward Albee, for helping clarify my artistic goals: the opposite of you.
At this point, I’d like to hear from other trans artists—how do you negotiate this conflict?
What does it mean to you to be a trans writer or artist? Are you out in your work? Are you out because you have to be, or because you want to be? Do you think it helps or hurts your career?
*LGBT, you know what I mean
Special welcome to New York City goes out to out trans artist Red Durkin, who also will be taking over blogging/tweeting over at TopsidePress.com. We’re so lucky to have her. Trans fiction writers can welcome her on twitter at: @topsidepress and we’ll be at the Philadelphia Trans Health Conference next week if you want to chat us up in person. We both love talking about books.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Liveblogging is the perfect adjunct for your style, Mr. Leger.
Tom:
I identify myself as both a trans person and a gay male, and I am both a writer and an artist. Although I am very open about my identities, it (surprisingly) doesn’t influence my art as much as some would expect. I’m out because I want to be, but when people read/view my work, I don’t make a point to tell them, “Hey, I’m a gay trans artist!” I’d much rather have people focus on my work for what it is, not for what/who I am.
That being said, I do love me some over-the-top queer art showings and spoken word readings! I jump at the opportunity to show the larger world that yes, there are trans/gay artists who are proud of who they are and what they do. Regardless of what our occupations are, we should all be proud to be ourselves and represent every “minority group” we’re a part of. That’s my take on it.
Keep on with the good work!
-George
I am a lesbolesque artist who *just happens* to be queer.
I don’t usually start working on art thinking “yeah, this is going to be trans-tastic!” or “this will totally have queer subtext!” but it ends up happening anyway. It’s probably because I enjoy educating people so much. I’m out because I want to be. It likely has/will affect my career. It’s already been a factor in where I perform or display my art. Response has been mostly positive. Any negative thoughts have been kept to their owners.
I agree with George though. Being outwardly queer and/or trans and not afraid to say it is really really fun to be and to watch.
The courage of 80 is the cowardice of 30, by which I mean it is worth bearing in mind that a lot has changed in the past 50 years and if Edward Albee had been born in 1978 instead of 1928, he might talk about the link between his identity and his writing a bit differently. He isn’t the next generation, and thank god for that, but he is the generation before last and I think it is worth a pause to consider the history behind why someone his age talks about his identity the way he does before judging him the way one might judge a peer.
That said, anyone who thinks being white, male and educated constitutes a marginalized minority is a bit sheltered and deserves whatever critique is coming.
It’s great to read smotehnig that’s both enjoyable and provides pragmatisdc solutions.
Since I decided to write a trans memoir, I decided to be an “out” trans writer. Lately, I’ve been focusing on trans-specific subject matter, not because I’m obsessed with transition stories (which the lovely Leger said “has a shelf life equivalent to a ripe banana”:) but because so much can be said about bodies, gender, our culture by deeply investigating a transgender experience. I love the subject matter because I think it’s rich and its potential to deliver relevant meaning to all people is untapped.
It definitely hasn’t *hurt* my career, but I do feel a bit pigeonholed with my current work, unable to reach a greater audience. That said, I like writing to a queer audience because they understand the nuance, can engage with the details, and are pushed to think deeply and in new ways about the subject matter. Whatever I’m writing about, I really want to push the boundaries of the existing conversation.
BOOM
No, I agree, obviously, but there are many brave gay men and lesbians (and trans people) who are as old as Albee and have been out much longer, and have been out in their work. We don’t talk about them because they have paid the price by getting their work in front of a much smaller audience, due to content and censorship.
Why not, instead, honor a 70 or 80 year old writer who actually wants to identify as a gay writer?
word.
Coming to the article a bit late but this is an incredibly personal topic for me.
As for Albee, I remember being wishing I would be able to attend just to hear him. His plays, “Who is Sylvia?” were incredibly powerful to me, and spawned some of my first critical queer debates with fellow students at the conservative art school I went to in Sarasota, Florida.
The play, for those of you unfamiliar, is set up with the husband cheating on his wife and as the plot develops you realize that Sylvia the mistress is a goat. The play spotlights the couple’s son, as he “comes out” to them as gay. Typical for Albee there is dramatically yummy scene where the beside herself with rage wife, kills the goat and confronts the husband with the dead carcass.
I saw the play with a class of fellow artists and we were invited to a private panel discussion with the cast immed following the performance. Although we were in a conservative town I couldn’t believe that my fellow class mates were comparing bestiality to homosexuality with a straight face. This was 2006, so in a way I understand Albee widening the net and trying to catch the people my discourse/work would probably never reach.
THAT SAID, in my other classes for the BFA I learning how to argue with my professors that my queerness and artistic perspective were inter-linked, while I was being criticized for making work about the “mundane.” The argument presented by my Gay cis-male professor was that art transcends messages/ propaganda and making work about anything with an inherent message is simple and mere advertising.
I argued for the next few years fiercely that I did not agree. As I developed my queer voice and confidence and started seeking those who had made queer work before me, I was desperately happy to find a few, but devastated to find SO FEW.
I am queer, how can my art not come from that perspective?
Documentation = history.
And if the artists are more concerned about making art that only the ivory tower can access or comprehend, then how on earth will the other kids is shitty small minded towns find hope.
Is the work done graphic and photo artists made during the civil rights movement mere “advertising?”
I was also made to feel that once I matured I would get over my obsession with my sexuality, and that it was “just a passionate phase.”
I still very much feel that my queerness and lack of equal rights informs my work when before a blank canvas or when starting a new series.
Because I want my work to matter, be valid, and RELEVANT and that means making work about how I see the world around me.
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