#queerstorian

[laqueerstorian-blog]

A Space of Privilege at T* Camp

By Eve Moreno

 Who has survived sexual assault? Eyes shifted left and right and silence lingered in the room as folks walked into the center. My breath shortened as I placed one foot in front of the other. My chest tightened and my vulnerability began to rise. Who deals with addiction? Again, my heart raced as I placed myself in the center of the room. Anxiety and validation filled me as other folks revealed themselves the first night at T* camp.  

Who is transgender? The room’s energy rose when almost everyone attending camp walked into the center of the Main Lodge at Pilgrim Pines campgrounds. This camp is a safe space for transgender youth to come together and share their struggles, trauma and empower one another with our personal stories.

Southern California T* Camp is an inter-campus transgender retreat hosted by the University of Riverside at Pilgrim Pines campgrounds in San Bernardino. I was very excited to represent Los Angeles City College alongside Javi Sebastian at this three-day inter-campus retreat composed mostly of schools from the University of California and Cal State system.

Waking up the next morning to a cabin full of trans people was a very unique feeling. I identify with the gender-neutral pronouns: they, them, and theirs. My identity felt so respected by the community at T* camp. Often times at LACC I don’t see the same respect and compassion from my Cisgender peers. Cisgender means that you identify with the gender you were assigned to at birth. Transgender means that you do not identify with the gender you were assigned to at birth.

Being at T* camp with other folks who identified with the same pronouns as myself filled me with immense validation. It empowered me to see that more non-binary transgender people existed, and these identities were working to make their campuses an inclusive space for transgender people all across the spectrum. Spaces like T* camp are hard to come by in our society because transgender people are seen as less then or are identities are seen as an illness.

The first workshop I attended focused on the experiences of trans feminine campers. Although I felt comfortable in the space, I couldn’t help but feel isolated due to my non-binary identity. I identify as a non-binary trans person, meaning that I don’t identify as a man or a women because my expression does not align within the gender binary. The workshop allowed us to share our experiences as trans feminine people, and also brought a spotlight to differences in sex and gender.

 Sex and gender are two different constructs that have been forced onto us by colonization. Sex is based on the biological factors that make up our bodies. Gender is a forced ideology that comes with societal expectations due to our sex. Gender is a spectrum and looks different to each and every one of us. Connecting male and female to pronouns is inherently problematic because of the fluidity of the gender spectrum transgender people encompass. The translation to this: Saying exclusively, “I identify with female/ male pronouns”, puts other trans people in an exclusionary position. It is important to separate sex and gender when navigating spaces with trans people.

Campers were pre-selected into groups referred to as home groups, and were told to name our groups and I suggested because we all are radiant to be called, the Gems. Besides the facilitator, the student facilitator and myself, everyone in the Gems was white and or from middle class narratives. I tried to settle into my group with an open heart and mind despite these socioeconomic differences. The discussion in our group was about our chosen name and why is our name important to us.

 I chose the name Eve because of the history it has being associated with the first women in existence. In our society the identities of women and femmes are objectified, ostracized, and constantly fight to prove their humanity in this misogynistic culture. My identity is a clap back to the patriarchy,I hope to someday create an organization called “The Age of Eve”, where transgender people and femmes are empowered through multimedia knowledge as a form of self-care and activism.

  After breaking from our home groups I attended a dance workshop at the main lodge led by Riy, a black non-binary trans person who majors in dance studies at UCLA. Riy taught us how to cabbage patch, nay nay and shared with us the violence that women and femmes experience when growing up in dance studios. After the age of 12 women are taught to dance in ways that cater to the gaze of men, supporting the institutionalization of objectification that women and femmes experience.

The breakout that followed was a people of color (POC) workshop where the POC who attended the camp could come together and center our intersectional identities away from the white folks attending T* camp. The empty fireplace allowing excess ventilation made the room cold and damp. The room was packed with eager faces and whispers of revolution. We talked about navigating our identities in school and the ways we are misgendered at the institutions we attend back home. We came to the conclusion that we cannot allow educators to misgender, and disrespect our trans identities.  Our tuition is the reason why the institution can operate. Students give the educators the ability to work, sustain a space for their careers and it is imperative for these educators to hold themselves accountable for creating a safe space for transgender students.

 We also discussed the anti-blackness that plagues our communities, however, a dialogue addressing the problem facing our communities of color wasn’t talked about. What was talked about was that it was too difficult addressing anti-blackness when individuals were dealing with their own cultural identities being trans, and didn’t have the strength or capability to address any other problems at home.I felt a rush of anger race inside of me. T these racist ideologies didn’t resonate well with me. Although as POC we cannot be racist, we can definitely perpetuate anti-blackness. Ways that this happens is using the “n” word as non-black POC, as well as allowing our communities to express racist ideologies. Communities of color fail to see that black people exist within all cultures and that without the liberation of black communities, we cannot experience collective liberation.

The walk back to the dining hall to meet my home group was cold, dreadful, but I had to keep it together. The lights at Pilgrim pines began to flicker on and off as darkness settled in around me. It was so cold that I could see the warmth of my breath, and I figured it was just the anger I felt inside of me becoming physical right before me. I felt ostracized being back in the Gems after the POC breakout.I live my truth every second i breathe, every second I exist is an act of resistance and I strongly believe that I’m my ancestor’s wildest dream. The facilitators asked what was our favorite thing about us I responded: “My favorite thing about me is that I am a trans, queer brown and poor person surviving in a society that works against my existence! I made it clear to the Gems that my experiences navigating the world were far different than their own.

Paddles, whips, floggers, clamps and ropes were spread across a table as I walked into the last break out of the night. The facilitator Cadence has been involved in the Kink scene Los Angeles offers for over a decade. Cadence educated us on the three “C’s” of Kink culture: Consent, communicate and care. The most important part of Kink culture is being safe and consenting to everything happening during playtime. My favorite toy from the workshop was a paddle that a heart in the middle.  Cadence explained to us that kink culture is much more than just toys and inflicting pain for pleasure, but understanding what your playmate wants, consenting to the play and taking care of each other after the session. The most dangerous part of kink culture is us. The neuron-chemical reaction that happens during playtime takes us on a journey that must be taken with caution.

The final day of T* camp went by so fast. I explored the campground with my new friends and we came across the field of dreams. The organizers of the camp asked us to work on a writing piece called, “A Letter to myself”, for our future selves to read. I laid in the Field of Dreams at Pilgrim Pines and wrote affirmations and empowering words, “I am light, I am magic and I am power. I am loved and appreciated by my community. Although my recently passed grandmother is not here with me physically, she is watching over me and my chosen family. Never give up Eve”. The Field of Dreams is a lush greenery area that is surrounded by all kinds of plant life.

 The final group activity was at the main lodge of Pilgrim Pines. It was an exercise where we formed a circle and had our backs turned from each other. One at a time, each home group went into the middle of the circle and tapped the back of someone that resonated with the statement said by the facilitator. Something that resonated with me was when the T* camp staff went into the middle of the circle, and was told to tap the back of someone that made their camp experience memorable, and who will be a good leader this upcoming year. I felt so much warmth and love run through my body as hands tap my shoulder over and over again. My eyes welled with tears and my heart rushed to the vibrations in my body created by the taps of my fellow campers.  

 I knew that my experience at T* camp would be unforgettable because I made an impact on so many people. It was like I wasn’t leaving T* camp that afternoon because T* camp was leaving with me. I was taking all the siblings I made at camp back to my community here in Los Angeles. The people I met at camp were real, they were real because I didn’t have to be anything but myself around them. They saw me for me, for my non-binary transgender and queer identity. I look forward to coming back with the resiliency and magic I had the privilege to experience at T* camp, and pass on the leadership next year as a student facilitator.

[makingqueerhistory]

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[ktarchive]

Crush My Bubble Part 42 - The Answer

Gizmo hopped in the front seat next to Dustin and we were off.

I figured Dustin and Colt had mixed feelings about Gizmo. Colt hated the Safebox people, and after the Crispy incident Dustin had soured a fair amount as well. But Gizmo had scored some points in Colt's book when ze showed zir Queerstorian footage to the Lightstone people.

And sure, I had cooled off to Safebox as well.

Godric had tried to get me involved in other things, like Bridge Club or Biking club, but, frankly, they just didn't seem as important. And yet, speaking of Godric…

I still hadn't heard from him, even after another message where I half apologized, half accused him of ghosting me. The silence was starting to feel like a roar...

https://krazybase.wordpress.com

[smithsonianlvm]

#LMSP2017 Fellow Takeover: Pau Nava

As a good luck charm, I brought a small Polaroid from the first time I met Chicanx art critic Tomas Ybarra-Frausto. The Archives of American Art (AAA) is home to the papers of Dr. Tomas Ybarra-Fruasto, which document Chicanx and Mexican Art in the United States. ¡Hola todx!

My name is Pau Nava and I am a Ph.D. student at the University of Michigan’s Department of American Culture. Within American Culture, I frame myself as a self-proclaimed “Art Queerstorian” invested in documenting the public art of Midwestern Mexicanidad and queer Latinidad. As a scholar, much of my research has centered on the muralist movement of Mexican Chicago, Chicanx art and transgender studies.

The first time I met Tomas Ybarra-Frausto was at Chicago’s 2016 Latino Art Now! Conference. Coincidentally, this is the same conference where Dr. Josh Franco sat down with Marc Zimmerman and Len Dominguez and acquired the AAA’s first ever digital born collection that I am working on as part of my practicum this summer. The Polaroid photograph and courage to approach Dr. Ybarra-Frausto was provided by Chicago artist Gabriela Ibarra.

This summer, my LMSP practicum is at the Archives of American Art (AAA) under the mentorship of Latinx collections specialist, Dr. Josh Franco. My practicum involves me helping process a newly acquired digital born set of interviews of Chicago Latinx artist from the 70s to early 2000s. The collection is so newly acquired it does not have an official name yet. Since the Archive’s inception, this is the first time a collection is acquired completely digitally.

This photo shows my practicum lead, Dr. Josh Franco, and I, discussing my findings. 

Contrary to what people may imagine when they think of archives (boxes and physical folders), my archive experience has been spent listening to different audio files and browsing online images. Part of my practicum duties include helping to process and aid the Archives with identifying the collection strengths so that they may be useful and accessible to future researchers.

I use the landmark Chicanx art exhibition CARA: Chicano Art Resistance and Affirmation 1965-1985 for fact checking. Despite it never having been hosted in Chicago, it’s existence is still very much a part of the conversations in the artist interviews I am working with.

Chicago holds a special place in my heart as a first-generation art historian. I grew up in the suburb of Elgin, IL., about 45 minutes from Chicago. I remember the train rides where my mother would take my brother and I to the different free museum days within the city. Before starting grad school I moved to Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood where a lot of the art spaces mentioned in my #LMSP2017 project take place. As a predominantly Mexican American neighborhood, Pilsen’s many murals captivated me because it was the first time I saw my Mexican culture unapologetically grace public spaces.

The Pilsen community greatly felt the loss of Maestro Guerrero who passed away in 2015.

My first mural tour was led by Pilsen’s esteemed artist and educator Jose Guerrero (1938-2015) as part of DePaul University’s first ever art history course on Chicanx art. When we hear about Chicanx art and Mexican visualities we tend to turn to places like the west coast and greater southwest. From my work in the Pilsen community and suburban Mexicanidad, my mission is to open the door for more representation of the Chicanx and Mexican art in the Midwest. Many of the artist interviews I am listening to this summer were created as part of a cd project honoring the legacy of Maestro Guerrero and artist Jose Gamaliel Gonzalez. There is something really powerful about helping contribute to a history so close to home. Although Pilsen is present in the Archives of American Art, it does not mean its history is done being documented. I leave with more questions regarding erased local landmarks such as Casa Aztlan and the voices of muralists such as Juanita Jaramillo, whose name haunts Pilsen mural history as one of the few women mentioned in Chicago’s early Latinx murals.

Picture of a 1987 art exhibition catalog of Pilsen’s Mexican Fine Arts Center (now known as the National Museum of Mexican Art) where a lot of Pilsen’s early muralists were exhibited. Many of their artistic careers and practice as artists fostered by the existence and art networks of organizations such as Casa Aztlan.

Through my work within the art history of Pilsen, displacement and gentrification are an ever-present violence in the community. Casa Aztlan is most easily recognized for its place as the cover to a book that highlights women activists involved this cultural organization titled Chicanas of 18th street. As I listen to the stories of artists such as Marcos Raya, Ray Patlan, and Dulce Pulino, I recognize the lack of recognition Casa Aztlan has towards its many contributions to the artistic training of some of Pilsen’s earliest Latinx artists. As I complete my time at the Archives of American Art, these findings make me question if this is a dissertation topic that has fallen on my lap. 

As LMSP2017 comes to its final weeks, I find myself with more questions in my researcher toolkit. As a city that has terrible weather conditions for murals, taking pictures and interviewing artists is a valuable part of art historical work within the city of Chicago. I am getting ready to return to the Midwest with the hopes that my findings help spark more celebration and dialogue about the rich Latinx art history of Chicago.

Follow the #LMSP Fellows via Instagram @smithsonian_lmsp @slc_latino, the Smithsonian Latino Center Facebook page or via Twitter @SLC_Latino.