the funniest thing about being gay is the way that displays of heterosexuality inevitably age into homosexuality. the women’s parlour tea societies and pier-side strongmen of the 1900s. the patriotic rosie riveters and coiffed soldier boys of wartime. the A-line skirts and cat eye glasses and mutton chops and flares of the 70s. the camo minidresses and divine sisterhoods and lad on lad on lad culture of the 90s. it’s ours now. the bikers and the sailors and the flappers and the beat poets and the hippies and the ladies maids. you parody yourselves to escape from us and we eat it for breakfast forever and ever amen.
“DISRUPTION: TACTICS
The faggots never tire of fucking with the men’s minds. Once all the faggots let their hair grow long, wore necklaces made of silver and shells and clothes of colorful, elaborate fabrics. They looked so stunning that the men over-looked their principles and began to look stunning also. When the men all looked like faggots, the faggots cut their hair, put on black leather and looked like the men used to look. The men were annoyed and pretended not to notice. Growing bored with basic black leather, the faggots began to elaborate. They wore black fish-net stockings and high heels with their black leather jackets. They carefully sewed imitation rhinestones all over their black leather pants. They wore feather boas as they rode their motorcycles through the devastated city. They wore flowing gold lame gowns and workboots with their short hair and dirty fingernails. They drank beer and swore, in velvet robes and furs. They sipped champagne and talked refined in paint-splattered blue denim. The men did not want to look at any of this. And when they had to, they became confused and petulant and unpleasant, which pleased the faggots.”
–Larry Mitchell’s The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions
