Performing gender
Art, activism, and how to talk to your fellow queers.

By Laurie Koh

A TRANSGENDER GOSPEL choir, break dancing sisterz, burlesque femmes, queer hip-hop, and a blindfolded, genderbent tango – it must be June in San Francisco, home of the "performance space," as well as the National Queer Arts Festival. In the weeks leading up to the LGBT Pride Celebration, the atmosphere in the southern part of town gets down right staticky with all of the queer artists emerging and converging. These days, in San Francisco at least, it can seem like, "Hell yeah, we're here, hell yeah, we're queer, but is anyone listening who doesn't know that?" Whom do we shout at when we can own the streets at will? Most often one another – as we face the fact that our experiences, concerns, and goals are those of a large and disparate group, are not always the same, and are sometimes at odds. Perhaps that's why NQAF 2003 chose "Gender Identity" as its theme – and why several festival performances have highlighted the pressing need for constructive dialogues within our community, especially as subtle oppressions fall over us from the federal level like a shadow.

During the sold-out June 13 performance of "Intercourse: A Sex and Gender Recipe for Revolution," at the San Francisco Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Center, author and transgender activist Leslie Feinberg asked a diverse crowd, "Are racism and war issues in the movement?" and pointed out that this question has always been the rallying point or the downfall of thriving queer communities. "People who do not experience common oppression can stand shoulder to shoulder against a common enemy," Feinberg urged. Judging from the speed at which the audience jumped to a standing ovation, that sentiment was shared, at least within the room.

As for the world outside, art is integral to approaching questions like this and communicating them in an accessible way. In that symbiotic pairing of art and activism that often defines queer expression, the volatile issue of gender identity inspires some of the most innovative work, but it's also our community's stumbling block. "Transgendered, genderqueer, trannyboi – for some this is merely an Emily Post issue (he? she? ze?), but there are plenty of people who feel threatened or angry about it," says NQAF executive director Pam Peniston, when asked why she and the festival board chose this year's theme. "The truth is, it's not about them, it's about the people who make these difficult choices to be themselves and try to live vibrant artistic lives while fending off everything from insults to murder."

"Intercourse," a showcase of intersex, transgender, transsexual, and genderqueer performance produced by local writer and performer Thea Hillman, felt like a natural meeting ground for activism and art examining such a theme. Exemplifying that intersection, "Intercourse" performer Yoseño V. Lewis is a longtime Bay Area activist and a female-to-male transsexual who served on the original San Francisco Transgender Civil Rights Implementation Task Force, now sits on the Tenderloin AIDS Resource Center board of directors, and is active in many other community and political organizations. He also happens to write some damn fine poetry that's rooted in activism but draws deeply from personal experience. In the poem "Sir," Lewis explores the complacency that comes when he no longer has to struggle to pass – something he's confronted with while shopping for suits with a newly transitioned FTM friend who's crushed when a salesperson addresses him as "Ma'am" and Lewis as "Sir."

Asked about the issues Feinberg raised, Lewis says, "How in the world could I be a dark-skinned Latino transsexual, how could I be born and raised in this country and not understand that racism and war – and poverty and the environment, etc. – are issues of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and questioning movement? Years ago the question for 'mainstream' society was, 'Are the civil rights of lesbians and gays our concern?' The pendulum has swung to whether or not the lesbian and gay community has a responsibility to recognize that being lesbian or gay does not absolve you of addressing racism, classism, and 'globalistic' thinking."

At 23, trans-identified hip-hop artist Katastrophe, a.k.a. Rocco Kayiatos, is on the younger side of the genderqueer spectrum. His performance the second evening of "Intercourse" left me wondering if I could work out some kind of deal with him for a lesson in the art of strutting. The smooth-talking, self-proclaimed "flyest motherfucker with the switchable dick," Kayiatos is a former member of End of the World and is now making tight, electric homo-hop on his own – work that fully embraces the "play" in genderplay while still hitting the issues he feels strongly about. In "Bad, Bad Feelings" he attacked the folks who try to shame you with self-righteousness. For his final song he switched over to full-on fly-motherfucker mode for an ode to the ladies.

"Sometimes I feel that I'm the queerest part of the queer community, and other times I feel that gender identity and sexuality have little to do with each other, and I'm not a part of the community," Kayiatos says when asked about the unstable relationship between gender and sexual identity. "San Francisco is an enlightened place that turns on itself. All these misfits and broken toys come here to seek refuge from the unkind world and in turn begin to feel scarcity issues – 'There's not enough room for my oppression.' So we end up feeling like everyone else's oppression is oppressing our oppression, and then we have all these walls, and we write mean shit about each other, and we are no longer connected to our struggle." (His forthcoming album sports the tongue-in-cheek title Let's Fuck, Then Talk about My Problems.) End result, according to Kayiatos? Disempowerment.

Katastrophe had another chance to express those ideas the following weekend at Fresh Meat 2003, where he performed alongside a host of other homo-hoppers as well as modern dancers, break-dancers, spoken word artists, glam rockers, and a gospel choir. Art-directed by genderqueer dancer, choreographer, and community organizer Sean Dorsey (who also performs with Lizz Roman and Dancers), the extremely popular trans and queer cabaret was all about creating, and delighting in, the sheer good art that can come out of queer tensions.

In a brilliant tango by José Navarrete and Debby Kajiyama, the identically dressed pair danced with an amazing synchronicity, considering they were blindfolded for most of the piece. Other Brothers, Tina D'Elia, the Harlem Shake Burlesque, and others turned in fun, engaging performances. A highlight of the evening, the all-transgender, mixed-age and -race Transcendence Gospel Choir fanned across the stage to sing about Jesus in front of an audience one might have expected to feel ambivalent about holy-roller songs; whatever the case, the singers' exuberance had people stomping. Even intermission proved entertaining, as Steamroller Dance answered its own philosophical questions about falling with a gravity-defying piece set against the Shotwell-side wall of ODC Theater.

The evening also featured Dorsey and Linda Case's "Red Tie, Red Lipstick," a piece about police brutality in which the two layered a sensuous duet over a violently moving poem by Marcus Rene Van. The conflict between text and movement allowed an earlier moment of tenderness to be experienced at the same time as a later tragedy. The work was traditionally gendered in the sense that Dorsey danced the "male" role, lifting his partner and leading her when they moved together. But Dorsey – a classically trained dancer who expresses himself physically with a freedom and grace seldom seen in trannyboy performance – found ways to unwind gender through the story and the very medium of dance performance.

"I'm a dance artist," Dorsey says. "While I also work with text and sound design, my instrument is my body. Ironically, as someone who lives outside traditional gender boxes, I don't think I could have chosen a more gendered instrument. Or a more gendered art form.... It is also a blessing to be both a dancer and genderqueer: if there is no existing canon of trans dance work for me or my audience to reference, I get to invent; I get to contribute to and forge new vocabulary."

As far as Dorsey is concerned, queer art is revolutionary and political in its nature, and "the gender revolution ain't a private party." If that's the case, his new vocabulary, as well as that of Katastrophe and Lewis and the other performers in this year's festival, should prove useful in the dialogues to come.

For more information on the last week of the National Queer Arts Festival see "The Importance of Being Queer," page 32, and go to www.queerculturalcenter.org. Laurie Koh is a former Bay Guardian intern.