Written by Kaila Johnson, The Ubyssey
Bisexual lighting — saturated beams of blue, pink and purple — coated the stage of the Queer Art Festival(QAF)’s Queerotica: Literary Readings on July 6 at the Sun Wah Centre. Four different writers shared their work on stage surrounding the theme of “the masc & femme we wear.”
Rather than simply reading aloud steamy poetry, Queerotica complicated the erotica genre with questions around how our authentic sexual selves are disguised and warped by colonialism and white supremacy.
One of the featured artists, Aly Laube, was unable to attend in-person and shared her collection of poems via a YouTube video with event attendees. Their collection, titled “Gay and Confused,” mentioned U-Hauling, the common Queer experience of thinking you’re in love with a friend, and R&B artist Teyana Taylor’s ballroom-inspired track “WTP.”
Kyle Shaughnessy spoke of his experiences as a Two-Spirit Trans person of mixed Indigenous and European ancestry. His introduction flowed into a non-fiction work about deciding to go back in the closet for his grandmother’s funeral. Shaughnessy described how he did not want an unfamiliar name to be a barrier to connecting with his family in their mourning. Still, he didn’t sacrifice his transmasc gender presentation to attend her service. Even when dressed up as yourself, there can still be parts of you in hiding.
Janice Esguerra, a recent graduate of the UBC Bachelor’s of Fine Arts creative writing program, shared poems and a piece of nonfiction. In the excerpt of nonfiction, she described her relationship to religion and what it would be like meeting god in a Chinatown bar.
Esguerra made attendees laugh during her final poem, “religion is whatever you do on your knees,” with the stanza, “because sex is just another way/to finish/each other’s sentences/and lord knows i’m tired/of commas.”
Elmer Flores shared a collection of poems which highlighted the frustration that BIPOC Queer people can feel towards white gays with works titled “fuck you, you fucking fuck” and “another poem about a white man.” In the former, he also described how his white classmates have been praised for using “fuck you” in their poetry while Flores was criticized for doing the same.
“I think this is the event where I’ve heard the most f-words in my life,” joked QAF artistic director Mark Takeshi McGregor after Flores’s set. By playing with the multiple meanings of “fuck,” Flores’ collection of poetry grappled with how oppression and animosity can bleed into sexuality.
UBC theatre production and design alum Laura Fukumoto kept this sentiment alive by starting her set with the phrase “fuck Canada day.” Musicality oozed through their collection of poems. She broke out a harp that was found in the alleyway by their apartment to elevate the feeling of haunting — QAF’s 2022 theme.
During their last poem, which was inspired by an AURORA song, Fukumoto had the audience hum two tones throughout the reading.
The warmth of the bi lighting and the hums of the audience provided a blanket of safety for attendees to listen and let the artist’s words wash over them.
Written by Makyla Smith, The Ubyssey
Pride Month 2022 had no shortage of Queer-oriented art; some funky, some flamboyant and some straight from the surreal Salvador Dalí playbook. In Vancouver, the world-renowned Queer Arts Festival (QAF) provided all of the above.
On June 26, QAF put on a showcase of Queer-created horror films called Reel Eerie, curated by CS Fergusson-Vaux and Ben Siegl. Between monster-fucking and more monster-fucking, the showcase was wildly entertaining — despite the fact that most of the shorts could be better described as “lightly-macabre” than “horror.”
Monsterdykë , described to the audience as a “portrait of desire examining trans-lesbian love and longing,” started the showcase off with a bang (pun intended). Directors Kaye Adelaide and Mariel Sharp established from the outset that “there are only two genders: monsterfuckers and cowards.” While that bold claim might lose other crowds, the QAF audience’s reaction was an enthusiastic applause.
What followed was essentially black and white gothic tentacle porn, filmed on 16mm film. Monsterdykë was seemingly a fan favourite, bringing a blush to even the most closeted monster-fucker. Its humour, horror and outrageous sexuality combined the greatest aspects of films like Haxan, Nosferatu and maybe even some Deadpool if you squint.
Next came Tj Cuthand’s You Are A Lesbian Vampire: a short which was essentially Dracula, reimagined as a satirical commentary on the insularity of the lesbian community. However small Vancouver’s lesbian community can feel when you run into three exes in one awkward night out, it stands to reason that the immortal lesbian community would be even smaller.
Similarly, U-Haul lesbians are infamous for going in hard on commitment, but for vampires “forever” really means… forever. It really makes you think: instead of turning your girlfriend into a vampire, you might want to turn your cat into one instead to save yourself hundreds of years of drama.
Audience roars of applause followed Joshua Lam’s Monkey See, Monkey Do, a suspenseful whirlwind of Queer Asian longing — featuring a boogeyman, a hilarious fictional magazine called “Hunks of Vancouver” and all the campy horror thrills of a Wes Craven classic.
A personal favorite was Monika Estrella Negra’s Bitten, A Tragedy, which explored racism in the Queer community. The film follows Black vampire Lydia’s mission to eradicate racism within the bloodlines and legacies that intertwined with her own. Lydia’s long memory as an immortal served as a creative allegory for intergenerational trauma.
When she comes across a micro-agressive rave-goer, Lydia is taken back to a moment of violence and murder between her ancestor and a white woman. A macabre and enthralling depiction of human sacrifice ensues. Murder, deceit and witchcraft come into play, as does a strict callout to those who believe that their Queerness negates their white privilege.
Bitten, A Tragedy‘s creative and poignant integration of horror tropes with social commentary made it one of the more captivating films of the evening.
Representation in Queer media has and always will be a battle, with white and cis men monopolizing mainstream narratives. When Queer media chooses assimilation over pride, non-binary, lesbian and POC narratives lose out. Showcasing diverse, weird and freaky Queer art in such a well-known outlet as QAF gave me hope for a new era of Queer films as creative explorations into rich experiences of our broad community.
Reel Eerie’s journey of almost-horror and monster porn showcased the importance of Queerness in media and reminded all of us that, much like lesbian vampires, Pride Month never really ends.