Dursley’s Drag Adventures

Sometimes my life feels like a big gay sitcom. One of those times was last week in which I had decided to drag up from the day to meet my friends.

Space boi trash. Fox Mulder would be proud.

When I got home I found out my grandad had popped in and the problems started; the only reason I had planned to drag that particular day is that I knew – or thought – I would be home alone. The logical thing to do would be to not drag… but as I have mentioned before, I am very stubborn. Today was a drag day. So I say hello, make him a brew and go upstairs to get ready. At the ready in all my space-nerd draggage glory, I of course had to take a quick selfie and planned to leave… when I hear another voice from downstairs. Turns out my auntie and her baby have turned up too. To make matters worse, I’d left my mp3 in the kitchen and there is no question of me getting on a bus without music. So I hover on the stairs for a while and then tiptoe down, sneak around the pram, grab my mp3 and then fly out the door yelling “Sorry, can’t stop, late for the bus!” and leg it down the road. Let me tell you, running is not comfortable when your tits are strapped down with ballet tights.

By the way, I don’t recommend binding with tights unless it’s for a very short period. It’s awkward as hell to get out of, which isn’t great if you do what I did and nearly collapsed in a queue outside comicon. Although it does feel like I’m sticking my middle finger up at the hell-hole of a dance school I bought them from!

Who doesn’t love some Halloween drag fun?

All this got me thinking about how odd my family is in the lines they draw at what is and what isn’t appropriate. My parents literally let me practice witchcraft and perform Pagan rituals in my room, but I have been told – and I quote – that cross-dressing is where they draw the line, after I made a joke about it when I was practicing my outfit for comicon. Even if I am not in drag, if I wear baggy jeans or what is known as my ‘lesbian jumper’ I’ll get some sort of irritated comment from them. A personal favourite was ‘If we’re going out for tea can you a least dress like a girl?’, which was followed by me digging my suit out of my wardrobe. I really don’t understand who I’m hurting if I present myself in a more masculine way every once in a while. There’s some days when that is far more comfortable to me. I’m starting to question whether I might be more genderfluid than anything because although the majority of the time I identify as a woman, I do have days when I just feel like a guy and I’m far happier if I can dress to reflect that.

First time I dragged up… and a King was born.

 

Really, gender is an odd thing when you think about it. And it’s great that non-binary people and androgynous styles are becoming more and more mainstream, but while these attitudes about clothing having a gender in the first place are so common it will always be difficult. For example, all the coverage of Jaden Smith has applauded him for his bravery in wearing ‘women’s clothes’, and while I agree with the message that he’s doing a brilliant job of breaking down barriers in what men can and cannot wear, there’s a problem in calling them ‘women’s clothes’. They’re pieces of cloth. They have no damn gender. The gendering of inanimate objects is what causes these barriers to exist in the first place, so surely avoiding that language when you praise someone for ignoring those barriers would be a better course of action

All the complex politics of gender aside, I like to wear drag sometimes. Especially after being told that if Derek Hales and Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf had a child, I would be it. So Elliot Stilinksi might have to be a secret from a lot of my family, but he’s definitely sticking around.

 

Horror Hound Review: Starry Eyes

(CONTAINS MILD SPOILERS)

Starry Eyes was quite a strange choice for my first film review. It’s definitely high up on my list of great horror films, but if someone asked me for my favourites it probably wouldn’t cross my mind. It’s not the cleverest, the scariest or the goriest film I’ve ever watched. And yet something about it really sticks in my mind. Clark Collis in EW says that while ‘What is the price of fame?’ isn’t a particularly original question, the answer given in Starry Eyes certainly is. It is so devastatingly bleak; the corruption of the Hollywood elite, how much of herself the protagonist Sarah has to sacrifice to achieve her ambitions and the effects this has on her in both a mental and physical way form a very cynical outlook on the film industry.

What makes it so original however, is that Sarah is not just the manipulated victim; she wasn’t pushed very hard into homicidal insanity. Her own monstrous ambition did most of the work. Even when she realises what it is doing to her, she keeps going forward. The part of the film that really shook me and has stayed with me vividly is the image of Sarah crawling towards the phone, covered in blood and filth, emaciated and with her hair and teeth falling out and screaming ‘I’m dying!’ to the sinister producer who simply cackles with laughter. It might sound pompous and ridiculous, but after reading Heart of Darkness, it reminds me of Kurtz’s final exclamation of ‘The horror!’. For me it’s always the simplest phrases the have the greatest impact, and the sheer desperation in her voice is haunting. Really, Alex Essoe’s performance is brilliant. Sarah isn’t necessarily all that likable, but she is believable in all her vulnerability and anger and insecurity. There’s something engaging about her as a character; she is infuriating, but she falls apart so spectacularly that you can’t help but be fascinated.

However, it must be said that there were a couple of things in the film that really irked me; the first being how stereotypical the Director’s assistant was. Scary, sterile and German. It seemed like a massive cop out the try and add a feeling of threat with such a cliche. The second was the random gay ‘kiss’ (if that’s the right word – watch it and you’ll get what I mean) between Sarah and Tracy at the end. I know, me, complaining about a lesbian scene? Unheard of. But this seemed forced and unnecessary. I think the idea was to show how Sarah’s transformation had altered her and she can now take control of a situation? I don’t know, it just felt like it was thrown in for cheap shock value. But they don’t make much of a negative impact on an otherwise great film. Apart from these cliched moments, the scares are built up with an atmospheric soundtrack and a build up of tension and emotion as Sarah is constantly knocked down by rejection, a monotonous job and passive-aggressive friends. You might not like her – I certainly didn’t. But you go start feeling like you’re going mad with her.

Horror reviews are a bit odd to do; fear is so subjective, and although I’ve watched exactly 183 horror films in my life (yes, I’ve counted. I’m a nerd) I’m quite easy to scare. But this unsettled me on a far deeper level than jump scares and if you want a film that is gory as  well as psychologically horrifying then I’d definitely recommend Starry Eyes.

Re-coming out?!

I came out as bisexual about two years ago – actually, I dived out of the proverbial closet in a cloud of rainbow glitter and was about as open about it as you can possibly be. Seriously, I was out to everyone from my hairdresser to my French teacher. I didn’t really give anyone an announcement – I just started to casually talk about female celebrities I found hot and then told people when I had a girlfriend. No one was surprised. In fact, it turns out most people knew before I did. I know for a lot of people coming out is a difficult – sometimes painful – experience. But I loved it. Sure, it was harder with my family and there was a large element of fear involved, but the more people I came out to, to more connected to myself I felt. People were finally seeing me for who I was. I was finally figuring out what these horrible, confusing feelings that had messed me up all through high school meant – and I realised there was nothing wrong with me…

So what happens when you start questioning all over again?

Identifying as a lesbian has been a recent thing – literally as of about two weeks ago. I’ve known since the start I was mostly attracted to girls, often explaining my bisexuality as ‘97% into girls, 3% into guys’. You wouldn’t think going up another 3% would be a big deal, but for me it really was for a number of reasons.

Firstly, it was such a struggle for my family to accept that bisexuality even existed that I almost felt like they would feel vindicated in that belief if I re-came out as a lesbian. The idea that my experience perpetuates the idea that bisexuality is a ‘phase’, or bisexual people are ‘confused’ was something I hated, and still do hate. I have never experienced any particular difficulty identifying as queer, but identifying as bisexual caused me some problems. Biphobia is such a real issue. In fact, most of my family were under the impression that I was a lesbian from the start, purely because it would cause so much drama trying to explain bisexuality to a lot of them. It was frustrating, but one advantage is that I don’t have to now re-come out to them!

Another reason it took such a lot of struggling to re-come out was the fact that a lot of my friends would make a lot of comments like ‘Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian? You might as well say you are, you like girls way more than guys’. And it pissed me off. People shouldn’t assume that they know more about someone’s sexuality than they do. It’s no one’s business but mine how I choose to identify. Having so many people say these sorts of things meant that I spent a lot of time wondering whether considering identifying as a lesbian was the result of being told I should so often. Something else I hated the idea of. I pride myself in being independent-minded. I didn’t want to be subconsciously pressured into something. It took a long time to decide if it was truly me who was making the decision behind re-coming out. I am very, very stubborn. I don’t let myself get pushed into these things, and again – it was the idea of the people who had made those comments thinking they were right to do so. It isn’t right. Maybe once would have been okay, but when I say ‘No. I’m happy identifying as bi.’ just leave it alone! Heteronormativity and the constant brainwashing of a thousand other societal values makes it difficult enough to make an informed decision on what you choose to identify as. I don’t need the people I care about to make it any harder.

I realise there will be people reading this thinking what’s the big deal? It’s just a word! I don’t need to restrict myself to a label! But here’s the thing; some people can go through their lives not using labels, or using something more all-encompassing such as ‘queer’. And that’s great! But there are people who like the clarity of having a word to claim. People like me. I am concise with my words. Hell, I’m a writer! Words are important to me! So I need the right one for something as intrinsic to who I am as my sexuality. And I need to make sure it is my choice. So it feels like a huge relief to be able to say proudly that I am a lesbian, that identifying as bisexual was no more or less valid, and that people need to let people to come to that decision on their own.

… Although all that being said, maybe ‘homoflexible’ is better. I might be a lesbian, but if an offer came up from David Tennant I wouldn’t say no!

Blessed be )O(

Book Review: The Loney

There were stories, naturally, of it being haunted. A witch had once lived there, they said; a beautiful woman called Elizabeth Percy who lured sailors onto the rocks, and who remained there in some form or other even though they’d hanged her in the old bell tower next to the house. ~ pg. 40

(MILD SPOILERS)

It’s always an inspiration to see some local writing talent, and Andrew Michael Hurley’s gothic novel ‘The Loney’ is a great example of what the writers of good old P-Town have to offer. As a lover of all things dark and sinister, I was immediately drawn to this book on one of my excursions to Waterstones in which I convince myself I’m only going to have a look and come out with at least three new books. But this is one of those reads that makes it worth the instant drop in my paycheck.

The biggest triumph of this book is that it contains so many of the classic tropes of gothic horror – the supernatural, the pathetic fallacy, the religious overtones, the isolation, the setting of a creepy old house in a bleak landscape – that it ran the risk of being one huge cliche. And yet it isn’t. All of these elements have been used so effectively that they read as believable and horrifying. Nothing is overplayed. One scene that springs to mind is Mummer forcing her mentally disabled son to throw up as he was supposed to be fasting by forcing his own fingers down his throat; Hurley describes the incident in less words than I do, and this matter-of-fact description makes it all the more shocking. Clearly, this scene is nothing new to the narrator, and the casual treatment of their mother’s abuse is harrowing.

The fact that Hurley’s writing deals in subtleties makes it a thrilling and yet frustrating read. Not much is ever resolved or answered. This isn’t necessarily a criticism – just a warning to anyone planning to read it that you will be thinking about the ending forever. Hurley splits it in two, leaving the second half until after an interlude; a pounding buildup is suddenly cut off, and it is like how silence rings when loud music stops. The disjointed structure is a clever choice, as it reflects the narrators own confusion, and the difficulty he has in facing what happened. The whole book has an undertone of dread, as if he is putting off telling the reader what happened; certainly, he won’t try to explain it.

Overall, a hugely enjoyable plot presented in a refreshing and engaging way – I honestly can’t think of anything I would change. The jumping about to different times can be a bit jarring sometimes, but that’s the entire point of them – it is something you have to concentrate on reading, but it is very rewarding if you do.