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Emergencies ’, Gender, Place & Culture , 5 : 3 , 241 – 60 . Ihejirika , C. ( 2020 ), ‘ Fuck Your Gender Norms: How Western Colonisation Brought Unwanted Binaries to Igbo Culture ’, gal-dem , 19 February , https://gal-dem.com/colonialism-nigeria-gender-norms-lgbtq-igbo/ (accessed 30 August
challenges that were never covered in training. 18 When it comes to aid workers of diverse SOGIESC, a 2016 survey of nearly 300 expat and local staff at Médecins Sans Frontières found that the majority of reported homophobic harassment was perpetrated by international staff against colleagues and beneficiaries. Forty-nine per cent (49%) felt unsafe to openly identify as LGBTQ+ ( Rainbow Network, 2016 ). One respondent recalled frequently hearing ‘homophobic
"What does queer signify in twenty-first-century French film? How are lesbian, gay, and trans* characters represented on screen? The book responds to these questions via the cinema of five emblematic directors: Jacques Martineau, Olivier Ducastel, Alain Guiraudie, Sébastien Lifshitz, and Céline Sciamma. From gay sex at a nudist beach to lesbian love at a high school swimming pool, from gay road trips across France to transgender journeys through time, the films treated in this study raise a host of key questions about queerness in this century. From award-winners such as Stranger by the Lake and Portrait of a Lady on Fire to the lesser-known Family Tree and Open Bodies, these productions gesture toward an optimistic future for LGBTQ characters and for the world in which they live, love, and desire. Comprehensive in scope, Queer cinema in contemporary France traces the development of queerness across the directors’ careers, from their earliest, often unknown works to their later, major films. Whether they are white, beur, or black, whether they are lesbian, gay, trans*, or queer, the characters open up oppressive notions of hetero- and cisnormativity to something new, something unexpected, and something oriented towards the future.
As Spain’s narrative of itself has changed through the late 1990s and the twenty-first century due to its engagement with historical memory and an interrogation of the country’s democratic credentials, analyses of Almodóvar’s cinema have changed to accommodate this. This book explores the evolving way in which the cinema of Pedro Almodóvar is employed to read Spain within the country and abroad. It focuses on how Almodóvar’s cinema engages with the narrative of the nation and the country’s twentieth- and twenty-first-century history through a metamodern (rather than postmodern) aesthetic. Whereas Almodóvar’s cinema does not wear politics on its sleeve, this book argues that, through using postmodern techniques with an ethical intent, a foregrounding of cinematic excess, and the poetic function, it nevertheless addresses Spain’s traumatic past and its legacy in relation to gender, class, and the precarious position of the LGBTQ+ community. The political nature of Almodóvar's work has been obscured by his alignment with the allegedly apolitical Spanish cultural movement known as la movida, but his cinema is in fact a form of social critique disguised as frivolity. The book offers a comprehensive film-by-film analysis of the cinema of the Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar, from early transgressive comedies of the 1980s like Pepi, Luci, Bom y otras chicas del montón and Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios to award winning dramas like Todo sobre mi madre, Hable con ella, and Dolor y gloria. In doing so, it shows how Almodóvar's films draw on various national cinemas and film genres.
Bound Together: Leather, Sex, Archives, and Contemporary Art considers historic gay and lesbian leather communities by way of two interrelated lines of enquiry; addressing the archives where leather histories and their attendant visual and material objects currently reside, while also examining the projects of contemporary artists who bring leather histories to the fore, making an implicit argument for their potential queer political force in the present. Arguing for an expansive, yet grounded, consideration of the vicissitudes and pleasures of archival work, the book centers the material and visual cultures produced by members of gay and lesbian leather communities, tracing their contextual meanings at the time of their making, as well as their continued ability to produce community-specific histories in archival repositories (that may or may not be solely dedicated to leather communities). Contemporary artists such as Dean Sameshima, Die Kränken, Monica Majoli, A. K. Burns and A. L. Steiner, and Patrick Staff have incorporated the themes, materialities, and/or histories of such archival holdings into their heterogeneous practices, establishing leather history as a persistent and generative touchstone for rethinking queer life, relationality, and sexual politics.
and balanced.’ This kind of easiness did not exclude LGBTQ+ women from depicting problems and difficulties in their relationships, and often they did, particularly when I interviewed them about relationships that had ended. 2 Yet, those women who had been in relationships with men often contrasted relationships with women with their past or current relationships with men, wherein they
broader LGBTQ heritage. This is a persistent trend towards valuing a coming together, a desire for unity and conviviality among diverse queer people and with other groups and individuals in the local community. This was happening at the same time as new sexual and gender identities were being debated and named, and as more of them were added to the LGBT acronym – with ‘Q’ (queer), ‘Q’ (questioning), ‘I’ (intersex) and the embracing ‘+’. These extensions point to a desire for inclusivity, a drawing in of everyone
the 1990s. Map 1 England and Wales Queer beyond London hinges on local dynamics like these as it traces and compares the queer dimensions of Manchester and three other English cities: Brighton, Leeds and Plymouth. It shows how the local economy, population, city government and local history and culture shaped experiences of LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer) identity and community in these places. It shows too how people’s gender
(LGBTQ) parenthood. Karin’s post is from one of the many social media discussion groups on non-heterosexual parenthood that I follow in my ethnographic research on contemporary LGBTQ family-making in Sweden. I am particularly interested in how queer forms of family-making evoke gendered and racialized forms of biological and intimate labour and in how reproductive desires articulate with ideas about relatedness and parenting. I approach these questions for what they might teach us, not only about LGBTQ people who through the increasingly common practice of assisted
the gay and trans characters just as the Aids moral panic was at its height. In placing gay and trans characters at the centre of the film and expecting the Spanish government to fund it, Almodóvar also highlighted how LGBTQ+ issues were still taboo. The decision not to fund the film reflected public opinion: two years after the film’s release, statistics from the Spanish Centre for Sociological Investigations (CIS) showed that ‘50% of Spaniards believe that homosexuality is “a crime”’ and ‘Spaniards continue to show serious misgivings about homosexual behaviours