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.
Queer kinship, reproductive labour and biopolitics
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
Seeking help against intimate partner violence in lesbian and queer relationships
expansive. ‘Safe space’ is a cliché, overused and exhausted in our discourse, but the fact remains that a sense of safety transforms the body, transforms the spirit. So many of us walk through the world without it. (Torres, 2016 : n.p.)
Justin Torres’ essay ʻIn Praise of Latin Night at the Queer Clubʼ, published in the Washington Post just a few days after the mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, draws attention to the violence that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) people and especially those of colour are subjected to in
Anti-love drugs could easily be misused. They bring to mind disturbing parallels with sexual orientation conversion therapies and other attempts to coercively intervene in the biology of vulnerable minorities, such as LGBTQ children and adolescents. This chapter explores the dangers of making certain biotechnologies available under oppressive conditions or in societies characterized by widespread intolerance or injustice. It also questions the logic of the ‘born this way’ movement for LGBTQ rights, which is premised on the idea that sexual orientation is not a choice. If high-tech conversion therapies are ever developed that can in fact change sexual orientation, the intellectual foundation for the movement would collapse. The chapter therefore argues for the movement to be placed on stronger footing, and suggests how this might be done.
The ambivalence of queer visibility in audio- visual archives
as museums, galleries or archives, have been
increasingly attempting to acknowledge LGBTQ pasts, often guided by
diversity policies (Axelsson and Åkerö, 2016; National Trust, 2017; Sandell
and Nightingale, 2012; Steorn, 2012). They are some of the stakeholders in
the process of heritage construction during which different interest groups
* This study was funded by the Swedish Research Council.
Vulnerability and cultural policy
negotiate political recognition (Smith, 2007). Creating visibility for previously hidden narratives is based ‘on the premise
Identity is often regarded as something that is possessed by individuals, states, and other agents. In this edited collection, identity is explored across a range of approaches and under-explored case studies with a view to making visible its fractured, contingent, and dynamic features. The book brings together themes of belonging and exclusion, identity formation and fragmentation. It also examines how identity functions in discourse, and the effects it produces, both materially and in ideational terms. Taking in case studies from Asia-Pacific, Europe, the Middle East and Latin America, the various chapters interrogate identity through formal governing mechanisms, popular culture and place. These studies demonstrate the complex and fluid nature of identity and identity practices, as well as implications for theorising identity.
2013. Although police dismantled the activist presence at Gezi Park on 15 June, protests continued in and around Gezi
through to LGBTQ Pride on 30 June. The melding of Pride with Gezi entailed
a massive 100,000-person march to Taksim Square, in contrast to 2012, when
only 20,000 participated (Hurriyet Daily News 2013). The protests fundamentally changed queer and trans people’s relationships with the Turkish public.
In this chapter I establish the queer common as a tool for understanding
a particular type of injunction against the state’s governance of the public
In this broad sweep, Mayo explores dominant European discourses of higher education, in the contexts of different globalisations and neoliberalism, and examines its extension to a specific region. It explores alternatives in thinking and practice including those at the grassroots, also providing a situationally grounded project of university–community engagement. Signposts for further directions for higher education lifelong learning, with a social justice purpose, are provided.
groups in Ireland, as I will elaborate on below, in particular its
core definition of heterosexuality as a constructed, rather than a ‘natural’,
sexual identity, and the notion that lesbian feminists could use the terms of
their oppression to redefine the social world.
My interest in Adrienne Rich’s work derives in part from my own longstanding commitment to feminist and LGBTQ3 scholarship and activism,
and in part from a study I carried out with Linda Connolly on the secondwave Irish Women’s Movement.4 That project (and subsequent publication,
democracy. Johnson’s pin sash, sited within her mobile
library/archive, exemplifies how such a call can be repurposed and perverted
without losing the affective charge of care that ostensibly undergirds it.
Containing over 9,000 books, papers, magazines, posters, clothing items,
photos, and sex toys, the primary purpose of the Carter/Johnson Leather
Library (named for Johnson and her long-time partner Jill Carter, and
from here on abbreviated to C/JLL) is to travel to LGBTQ and pansexual
leather events across the country and provide attendees with access to the