IS QUEER ENOUGH? THOUGHTS ON QUEER MUSEUMS

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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Source

In his 2008 article Theorizing the Queer Museum, Robert Mills talks about the difficulties that would surround a queer museum. For the purposes of this article, queer is used here to refer to a wide variety of sexual and gender identities, like gay, lesbian, transgender, and more. Mills' main point is that queer theory is inherently antithetical to museums, as museums are normalizing while queer identities are intrinsically non-normative. Mills, quoting Kosofksy Sedgwick, says that history reflects the heteronormative ideals of “inheritance, marriage, dynasty, domesticity, and population” and that queer exhibitions challenge these tenants. These qualities help to erase queer identities, it is claimed, so presenting anything remotely queer can be seen as radical.

Democratic Candidate Pete Buttigieg, seen here being intrinsically non-normative. Source.

I disagree with this though. I do not believe that there is anything intrinsically non-normative about queer identities; it instead comes out of how one expresses their queerness. Referring back to the quote above, I find it laughable that queerness cannot fit into those descriptors that the author calls “history”. Marriage is the one that should stand out to anyone with even the briefest familiarity with queer history from the last 30 years. Marriage has been at the heart of the queer movement for decades now. Meanwhile, the idea of the “traditional family” (upon which marriage is the central pillar) has been used as a bludgeon by right wing ideologues to attack and demonize queer relationships. In an effort to get gay marriage recognized, queer activists had to shape queer love into something it was not; straight-passing. It had to abandon the BDSM, the kinks, the casual sex, the polyamory; to be accepted, queer love had to become palatable to straight observers, all over forms of love be damned. There is a term for this, where the heterosexual features of queer relationships are highlighted above all else; it is called homonormativity. This is why I do not agree with Mills’ claims on the antagonistic nature between queer and museums; queer can be just as normative.

A humourous representation of homonormativity in media. Source.

While I disagree with how Mills gets to his conclusion, I would agree with that queer museums cannot succeed, or at the very least are very difficult to create. We have this idea that LGBT+ history was a coming together of outcasts that finally fought for their rights. This really is not the whole story, and the phrase “a trans woman of colour threw the first brick at Stonewall” does not help this. Queer history is one of strange bedfellows, groups that could barely stand each other, trying to get along to advance their goals. Showing the intricacies of these groups that very rarely actually got along would prove to be a great challenge to any museum, especially when the dominant voices will disregard any wrongdoing. One of my favourite examples to highlight this is with Lesbian Organization of Toronto, or LOOT for short. From 1976 to 1980, LOOT claimed that every lesbian in Toronto was automatically a member. Because of this, they very rarely agreed on anything. One of the few times they were in agreement, however, was to not allow a transgender woman to attend their meetings. Theoretical differences in identity such as these make it incredibly difficult for a queer museum to just exist. Existential questions must be asked because queer is not enough. A queer museum must also be a trans museum. It must be an intersex museum. It must be asexual. It must represent every letter under the LGBT umbrella. Without those other identities, only the dominant voices get to have a say in how to present history.

TO MONUMENT OR NOT TO MONUMENT?

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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In 2016, the Stonewall Inn became the United State’s first LGBT national monument. Declared by Barack Obama, he called upon the memories and myths of the Stonewall Riots that took place in 1969. I feel that museums have a tendency to view national subsidies and recognition of this kind as a universal benefit, but for the queer community, it is not as black and white.

The Stonewall Inn. Source.

The Stonewall Riots were kicked off in response to an anti-gay police raid of the now legendary bar on Christopher Street in New York. Unlike previous raids, the patrons fought back. The Riots would continue for three days, becoming the catalyst needed to spark the Gay Liberation movement. This early movement was not satisfied with homosexuality being normalized, but wanted to improve the lives of all. It is this mentality of not assimilating into heterosexual society that is generally recalled in phrases like “the first pride was a riot”.

With this being said, not everyone held the same goals as the Liberationists. There were many in the movement who sought to elevate the needs of predominantly white middle class gays and lesbians, frequently at the expense of others. These voices became prominent within the LGBT community  and would guide much of the direction that the movement would take in the following decades. Organizations like the Human Rights Campaign fall into this category.

With these two perspectives in mind, thinking about the Stonewall Inn being declared a national monument becomes increasingly curious. The modern view of the Stonewall Riots is one of rebellion, fighting against an unjust system--a fight that continues to this day. While much has been achieved by activists so far, there is still a great deal that needs to be addressed, especially for trans women of colour who are most commonly the targets of violence.

Despite this, the commemoration of the site was described as being apolitical because it was an official government event. In doing so, queer history and state intervention in queer lives is presented as something that only existed in the past and no longer relevant today. This could not be farther from the truth.

What is especially galling about this is the timing of the commemoration; two weeks after the deadly Pulse Massacre in Orlando in which a gunman opened fired at a gay bar, killing 49 people. With the murders of so many members of the LGBT community still fresh on everyone’s minds, to present the Stonewall Inn as a symbol of how far we have come concerning LGBTQ rights,  is farcical at best.

To conclude, I wish to ask the question that guided this piece. Is there a time in which government involvement goes against the narrative at a historic centre or site? I contend that the Stonewall Inn is one such example.

LANGUAGE AND IDENTITY WITHIN THE MUSEUM

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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When I started researching into transgender history, I was frequently tripping over the language used in the articles I would find. The term “transsexual” kept coming up. As a transgender woman that came of age in the mid to late 2010s, transsexual was out of vogue, frequently with negative connotations. It was not until I read Susan Stryker’s “Transgender History” that I discovered that this has not always been the case.

Transgender language evolved quickly. Even the terms used as recently as a decade ago have been abandoned by the community, and so many are unaware of this phenomenon. Phrases like “transgendered” are viewed with skepticism, representing an ignorance of transgender issues from those that use it nowadays. But if you walk over to Church St and Wellesley St, you will find a large mural that includes the phrase in the heart of Toronto’s Gay Village.

The mural at Church and Wellesley. Note the use of "transgendered" in the top left. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

This presents a problem for museums wishing to talk about transgender history. How do we grapple with this changing language in exhibitions in which even the community is frequently not aware of? Do we use the language viewers are familiar with and apply labels to those that did not choose them or do we keep the original language, fearing a negative response from the community we are hoping to serve?

As I am sure many of us are aware, when it comes to label writing, we need to be very precise with our wording. In order to keep the visitor’s attention, the labels need to be short and direct. Unfortunately, this does not lend itself to in depth discussions of complex topics, such as the evolution of language. As such, simply explaining the issue in a label may not be the best option.

Additionally, many queer historians consider it problematic to apply labels to those that did not choose them for themselves. Without definite proof, it often becomes inserting modern understandings upon a past that might not have shared them. Identity is so incredibly personal, and to say that we know better than someone else about their identity is arrogant and elitist. Altering how they identify goes against so much of what the transgender community and the LGBT as a whole has fought for.

This practice of not applying labels to people from previous generations has also long been the target of ridicule by members of the LGBT as well. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

But, the work should be made for the transgender community as it exists today. As I spoke about in my previous article, transgender people have long been overlooked in museums. Using language that the community deems to be offensive, even if it has a place within the historical context, presents the danger of angering that same community.

I wish I could say that there is an easy solution to this issue, but I do not believe there to be. Each position has its pros and cons. The difficulties that surround presenting an evolving language that is often overlooked cannot be solved so simply and must be significantly considered when writing about transgender history.

WHY WE NEED A TRANSGENDER MUSEUM STUDIES

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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Transgender voices have grown louder and more prominent in recent years, but in the museum field, they still frequently lag behind. While there have been some fantastic efforts made in the past year, such as the series of guides that the American Alliance of Museums' Task Force for Transgender Inclusion has produced on transitioning in the museum field, but these have usually focused upon hiring practices and employees within the museum. The systems that propagate oppression continue to go unchecked. It is for this reason that I believe it is imperative that we develop a transgender museum studies; to bring attention to the unseen heteronormative practices that run rampant in museums.

Photograph courtesy of Joanna Wreakes.

Central to a transgender museum studies is the theory that transfeminist author Julia Serano calls “ungendering.” In her book Whipping Girl, Serano describes ungendering as a “phenomenon […] where gender-variant people are used as a device to bring conventional notions about maleness and femaleness into question.” Through ungendering, transgender voices are erased, because the focus is no longer upon their experiences, but on what can be understood about cisgender society through trans people.

We do not need to go very far to see the effects of ungendering in the museum field. At the end of last year on the fifth floor of Bissell Building, there was a small exhibition on transgender pornography. I previously wrote about a review of it while it was on, but using Serano’s framework provides an excellent opportunity for deeper analysis.

Transgender pornography and sex work are very prominent for trans people, so it would make sense to have an exhibition on the topic. The exhibition used materials such as photocopied zines, crossdressing BDSM pulp fiction, and DVD and VHS cases of trans porn. There was very little didactic panels that offered any kind of interpretation of the materials on display. These sections felt very disconnected from one another.

The vitrine from the exhibition, containing transgender porn VHS's. The lack of didactics prevents conversations to develop about the lasting impact that comes with fetishizing transgender women. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

What was missing most was trans voices. Transgender fetishism is an incredibly common phenomenon in trans circles, but nowhere was there any kind of discussion about the lingering effects of trans porn in the community. There are so many discussions that could be brought up by an exhibition on trans porn that were missed in this exhibit. Why do trans people so frequently go into sex work? Why are trans people so often associated with sex work? How does trans pornography help trans people explore their identity? What kind of effects does the representation of trans people as sex workers have on those looking to see themselves in media? All of these questions came to me when thinking about the exhibition, but the exhibition was not concerned with the trans experience  in regards to trans pornography. The voices of the trans sex workers or those that have to deal with the fetishization are erase.

If we want museums and exhibitions to appeal to wider audiences, we must not rely on assumptions about minority groups. For members of those minority groups, it is painfully obvious when their voices are not present. Julia Serano’s framework is just one way that we can learn to do better.  We can be better, and if we want to tell more vibrant stories through exhibitions, we have to be.

CURATORIAL DREAMING: A MUSEUM QUEERIES WORKSHOP

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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This past week, I was lucky enough to be able to go to Winnipeg for a workshop organized by the University of Winnipeg based Museum Queeries. Museum Queeries describes itself as an “interdisciplinary research project” with the aim to “challenge normative formations including white privilege, racism, and settler colonialism, among other systems of oppression, as they operate alongside and with transphobia and homophobia.” As a matter of transparency, it is important to note that the University of Winnipeg covered my travel expenses to help me be a part of the workshop. CORRECTION: It was Museum Queeries who paid for my expenses, not the University of Winnipeg.

Some members of Museum Queeries looking out at the Nonsuch in the Manitoba Museum. Photo courtesy of Lauren Bosc.

The workshop was based upon the “Curatorial Dreaming” model put forward by Shelley Ruth Butler and Erica Lehrer. The concept says that, while academics are quick to criticize an exhibition, it is often a lot more difficult to propose solutions. Therefore, it proposes dreaming imaginary exhibitions. As part of this workshop, the group visited both the Canadian Museum for Human Rights and the Manitoba Museum. We would then discuss ways that the labels, displays and exhibitions could be queeried.

Museum Queeries members on the Pride Tour, at the "Taking the Cake" exhibit on gay marriage. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The two museums differed greatly from each other. At the CMHR, we went on their Pride Tour, a specifically LGBT focused tour offered usually only during Pride Month. The tour brought out queer stories that were scattered around the museum. As a piece of programming, it is a fantastic alternative to the usual curatorial decisions regarding queer content, but at only 75 minutes, the choices made as to what not to include are telling (the lack of any discussion on the Toronto Bathhouse Raids especially so).

Whereas the CMHR had some, at times problematic, queer content, the Manitoba Museum had none. The Manitoba Museum is a more traditional encyclopedic museum that tells the history of Manitoba. This ranges from the environment of the province, to the many Indigenous groups that lived there, to the colonial activities such as the fur trade. Unfortunately, aside from some camp labels, there was nothing that spoke to the queer history of Manitoba.

Members of Museum Queeries at the Manitoba Museum being shown pelts and animal remains. Photo courtesy of Lauren Bosc.

The different approaches to queer content between the two institutions created equally different discussions on how to queery them. For the CMHR, the discussions centred around reworking what was already there, adapting the framework that already existed. This took the form of focusing upon labels and sometimes adding new dimensions to the exhibits that were not already there. This proved to be challenging in places, as the limitations of labels often hampered the amount of information that could be included.

The results of the discussions that came out of the CMHR visit. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The lack of content with the Manitoba Museum allowed for more flexibility in imagining a more queer museum. By having nothing, the museum unknowingly allowed us to focus on reshaping what content already existed. As a result, the discussions were much more diverse in the topics they touched on. One topic that was particularly interesting was the imagining of a brothel in the reconstruction of 1920s Winnipeg. This would have provided a look into the world of sex work in the 1920s as well as a conversation around how the police violence that the sex workers were frequently exposed to. This was but one of the reimaginings that participants created out of the Manitoba Museum.

The results of the discussions after the Manitoba Museum. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The workshop, in my opinion, was a success. It challenged us to think in new ways about the exhibitions and displays that we saw. The discussions that arose out of the museum visits provided unique insights into curatorial process. It also offered an opportunity to apply a critical queer lens to museums that usually are overlooked.

The members of Museum Queeries in the entrance to the Manitoba Museum. Photo courtesy of Lauren Bosc.

I would like to express my sincere thanks to Angela Failler, Heather Milne, Lauren Bosc and Nicole Ritchie for organizing the workshop and for helping me to get out to Winnipeg for it. Had it not been for them, I would not have had the opportunity to experience the workshop and hear from others interested in queering museums.

THE T IS NOT SILENT

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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The Friday before the Pride Parade, Church Street is packed. At around 8 PM, the crowd makes its way up to Bloor Street before turning down Yonge Street and continuing to Allan Gardens. This march evokes a very different atmosphere than the festivities that are scheduled for this Sunday. There is no need for the corporate sponsors, just thousands of people walking in solidarity. This is the Transgender March, my personal highlight of Pride every year.

The banner carried at the front of the Trans March. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

This is the tenth year that Toronto had a Trans March to kick off Pride weekend. Starting as an unofficial event, the March has grown in size every year, with this year’s estimates sitting around 8,000 people. The energy was palpable and a farcry from the Pride Parade on Sunday. There were no banks with larger than life floats, no corporations trying to hock their wares on a public. Instead, there were thousands of people, all united in the same cause. They carried signs that conveyed a shared trans cultural production. They used memes and made references to things recognizable within online trans spaces, such as the now legendary 57 hour livestream of the 1999 game Donkey Kong 64 by Youtuber Hbomberguy that raised $340,000 for a trans charity earlier this year. Examples can be seen below.

VERY GOOD signs from the Trans March on Friday night!!!! Absolutely thrilled to see so many friends and people come out to march!!! LOVE YOU 💙💖⚪️💖💙 pic.twitter.com/Ngbpez2Tzq

— 💖 Gremlin Sherry 💖 (@rancidyogurt) June 23, 2019

Events such as the Trans March are incredibly important, both for individuals and for understanding Pride. Growing up transgender, no one ever spoke about trans people, and even more infrequently was actually seeing someone who was trans. It felt isolating. This contrasts to the Trans March, where I am surrounded by people being visible. These people are not just speaking about trans people but advocating for trans rights, which is incredibly powerful. Events like these signal to other closeted individuals that they are not alone.


Equally important is how it is viewed within Pride itself, for Pride and the Gay Rights Movement has a long history of transphobia. It is often said that the first Pride was a riot, but rarely is it mentioned that the second Pride in San Francisco excluded drag queens from attending. Even here in Toronto, Pride organizers tried to sabotage the Trans March for many years by restricting it to a much shorter route than those offered to the Dyke March or the Parade. By having the Trans March each and every year, it represents a resilience amongst the community and, with the March swelling in size every year, a stark reminder that trans issues are no longer on the periphery but now in the mainstream. The Trans March serves as encouragement for the future.

TRANS PORNOGRAPHIES AND UNCHECKED FETISHIZATION

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith

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If you have been around the Faculty of Information lately, you may have noticed a small, recent exhibition on the fifth floor of the Inforum. This exhibition covers some aspects of transgender pornography in the later half of the 20th century. As a transgender museum professional that has been desperately trying to find a way to make those identities coexist, I was excited to see something that was relevant to my identity. At least, I was initially.

As I spent more time thinking about the exhibition, I started to feel more and more uncomfortable with the subject matter. The reason was simple: it did nothing to address the fetishization of trans bodies and instead unintentionally played into it.

To be clear, I am not claiming that trans porn is inherently a bad thing. For many trans individuals, sex work and pornography were the only way to make money and survive. Even the most revered trans activists like Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson were forced into sex work simply because of their identities. So, to act as though there is absolutely no place for this would be to ignore history.

The display case showing crossdressing fantasies on one side and real life trans experiences on the other.
Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

Where the problem arises, however, is in how the material is presented. With very few didactics, the exhibit demands the viewer to interpret the objects on display. No where is there a discussion on the outdated language and slurs that run rampant throughout the displays. Words such as "transexual" and "transvestite" have very nuanced histories that are completely lost on most audiences. A cisgender audience, of which the Faculty of Information predominantly is, would not be as familiar with these materials to question the underlying issues that arise from each of the displays.

The exhibit is split up into three sections, the wall, the display case and the vitrine. All of these cover different aspects and each have their own problems. The wall shows photocopies of the Gendertrash zine. The major problem with this section is that, quite simply, these are not pornographic, nor do they discuss trans bodies. They more closely discuss trans identities and the issues of being trans in a world that does not understand them. Simply put, the section is out of place in an exhibition on trans pornography. The only reason I can see it being included is because it was started by a sex worker, but again, there is no text panels to explain why it is there.

The wall covered with photocopies of the Gendertrash zine. The design makes this section fairly inaccessible.
 Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The display case’s presentation is even more baffling. On one side is pulp erotic fiction detailing the forced feminization of men, and on the other is the real-life interviews with trans people. This is especially insulting considering one of the trans people on display was legendary film composer Wendy Carlos. The juxtaposition of crossdressing fetishism with real life trans icons waters down any kind of positive messages that could come from either.

The vitrine is probably the most noticeable of the three displays, containing within it the very explicit images of trans porn VHS tapes. These portray the fantasies of a largely cisgender audience, especially the transfemme ones. Fantasies such as these serve only to portray trans people as some kind of in between, a chance to experience gay sex without having to question one’s sexuality. But this underlying homophobia is never questioned, never addressed, because of the lack of panels discussing the exhibit.

The vitrine containing video trans porn. The use of slurs is most prevalent here.
Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

But the biggest problem in my mind with the exhibit is how it seems to portray the fetishism of trans bodies as being something of the past. Nothing seems to be from this millennium, which gives off a feeling of antiquity to these depictions. This fetishism is anything but antique. If anything, it has been bolstered with the internet. And it is a fact of life that every trans person that is even slightly public knows.

The realities of being openly trans online, an aspect of trans pornographies that this exhibit does not address. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The exhibit clearly wanted to educate people on the realities of trans porn, but it could have used a trans person to help give a trans voice.

TORONTO STORIES FROM THE CANADIAN LESBIAN AND GAY ARCHIVES

TORONTO STORIES

STORIES BY:  KELSEY CASSIN, JUSTINE KICEK, BRENNA PLADSEN, ALEX ROBICHAUD, KATHERINE SEALLY, LOU YANG

COMPILED BY: BRENNA PLADSEN

The series of digital stories about Toronto history and culture which make up this project are the work of fifty-three Master of Museum Studies (MMSt) graduate students. The project was inspired by the 2015 Myseum Intersections – Telling Toronto’s Stories and invited each storyteller to select an object from local collections which has significance to Toronto’s past and present. The objects inspired the authors to connect historical events with contemporary context so that they tell stories about the multiple intersections that happen in the city.

Musings will be posting collected stories once a cycle. We hope that, after reading the stories, you will know Toronto a little bit better. And perhaps you will find similar stories in your own objects!

Our partners for this project, to which we are extremely thankful, are:

• Archeological and Cultural Heritage Services
• Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives
• John M. Kelly Library, St. Mike’s College, University of Toronto
• Lambton House
• Myseum of Toronto
• Ontario Jewish Archives
• Private Collection of Russian Artefacts
• Scarborough Historical Society
• Scarborough Museum
• The Multicultural Historical Society of Ontario
• The Real Canadian Portuguese Museum
• Toronto Botanical Garden
• Toronto District School Board Archives

Now, without further ado, object stories from the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives.

SEXUALITY AND POLITICS: A GAY PUBLICATION'S QUEST FOR EQUAL RIGHTS

BY: KELSEY CASSIN

The Body Politic is a fitting title for a journal dedicated to sexuality and politics. Indeed, The Body Politic was a publication at the forefront of sexual liberation and equal rights for the gay community in the 70s and 80s. Founded as a highly political journal by members of Toronto Gay Action, The Body Politic wanted to bring the lesbian and gay community together, but the journal also wanted to change society’s views about sexuality. Michael Connors Jackman, a PhD candidate in social anthropology at York University, writes that “The paper was a social experiment, an intellectual engagement, and a political project aimed at changing the world.” The members, most notably Charles Dobie and Jearld Moldenhauer, started the collective when, according to Moldenhauer, the group realized that the gay community needed its own public voice.

The goal of these activists was to help gay men and women come out from hiding so that they too could be a part of the gay liberation movement. Creating a journal was thought to be the best way to reach out. If we look at the articles published in the journal, we can see that a strong focus was put on sexual politics, gay rights, and education: “Porn at the Clarke,” “Men Loving Boys Loving Men,” “Sexual Politics: A Manifesto for Revolution,” and “Strategy for Gay Liberation,” are just a sample of the not-so-shy articles. Even though the team wanted to bring an open and positive discussion of controversial topics, the journal sometimes gained negative attention for their provocative articles on sexuality. Unfortunately, the publication closed in 1987 because of financial instability.

The Body Politic, Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives. Personal photograph by author. 

I had the chance to look through the very first issue of The Body Politic at the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives. The articles in this issue focus on gay liberation, urging the men and women of Toronto’s gay community to stand up for their rights and freedoms. One article called “We Demand” presents a list of concerns and demands from homosexuals to the Federal Government of Canada, while “Closet door, closet door, you ain’t got me no more!” asserts that gays will have to work for their justice, equality, and freedom by coming out of the closet. While flipping through the issue, I wondered if the publication was actually able to change Toronto’s views. Did these efforts challenge society’s views about sexuality? How strongly did the journal impact the gay and lesbian community? I believe that with 16 years of publication, The Body Politic must have opened the door to a more positive and engaging dialogue about sexuality and gay rights. Whether they were successful in bringing change or not, Toronto, today, is a more inclusive, free, and open-minded city regarding gay rights and sexuality.

Bibliography
Bradburn, J. (2015, February 15). Historicist: I Sing The Body Politic. Torontoist (Toronto). Retrieved from http://torontoist.com/2015/02/historicist-i-sing-the-body-politic/

Connors Jackman, M. (2011, October 20). The Body Politic: At the genesis of sexual liberation in Canada. Xtra (Toronto) 704, 17-21. Retrieved from http://web.a.ebscohost.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/

YAS QUEEN!

BY: JUSTINE KICEK

Toronto Star’s Brent Ledger writes that “even by Toronto standards, local gay history and heritage tends to disappear fast, leaving only ghost landmarks in its wake”. In the 1930s, the Toronto theatre scene was buzzing with bohemian energy, serving as an escape from the Great Depression. The arts and the fantastical representations of stories through costumes and set design were the perfect distraction from the time’s hardship. In the 1930’s, many of Toronto’s theatres were located along parts of Yonge St. and Church St., in the area that is now associated with Toronto’s Gay Village.

Toronto of the 1930s, Yonge Looking south of Bloor. Photgrapher Unknown. 

A major player in the 1930’s Toronto theatre scene was Toronto-native Ronald McRae, commonly referred to as Ronnie McRae. Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives (CLGA) librarian Kevin Manual recounts, “There isn’t much information about his life, he’s sort of a man of mystery”. What is sure is that Ronald McRae was extremely important in the development of Toronto’s theatre scene as a safe space for the performance of gay identity.

Throughout Ronnie McRae’s life, his friends described him as eccentric, often participating in Drag Balls in the 1920s and 1930s in New York City and Chicago. His close friend Fred Sproule described Ronnie at a party as an:

“apparition coming down Fifth Avenue, I’ll never forget it, if there had been a hole in the street, I’d have dropped into it, he had a Persian lamb coat on, practically to the ground, with the biggest frogs you ever saw, and I thought: My God that can’t be anybody else in the world by Ron McRae, and sure enough it was!”

Ronald McRae was an active member of the arts community in Toronto, but was known internationally, often working in New York City in the late 1920 and early 1930s as an openly gay man. At that time, he designed costumes for the National Ballet of Canada and also for figure skaters who performed at Maple Leaf Gardens. CLGA owns some of McRae’s illustrations in an album of around 50 gouache watercolors depicting theatre costume designs for “women”. Upon a closer look at the watercolors, all the women seem to have masculine builds, and are wearing overly exaggerated heavy makeup. This album was not for women as it depicted men in women’s dress.

Ronald McRae’s Illustrations from the album “Women”,
found at the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives. Photos by: Justine Kicek.

His own dress and his illustrations of drag queens blurred and played with boundaries similar to how present day drag queens free people’s minds and educate publics through their performances. Ronald McRae’s creativity and lifestyle are part of the history of a neighborhood that evolved from an art space, to a space for the inclusion of gay identity.

Crews and Tangos Miss Crews 2015. Photos by: Krys Cee*.

Eight-five years later, his designs are still relevant for gay communities due to the popularization of drag shows that feature fabulous costumes, over–the-top personalities, and extravagance theatrics put on at places such as Crews and Tangos located at 508 Church St.

A special Thank you goes to Kevin Manuel, and the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives for allowing access to the archives.

Works Consulted
Lesbian and Gay Heritage of Toronto. Canadian Gay Archives, 5(16). Ronnie McRae.

McKinnie, M. (2001). Urban National, Suburban Transnational: Civic Theatres and the Urban Development of Toronto’s Downtowns. Theatre Journal, 52(2), 253-276.

Sibalis, M. (2004).Urban Space and Homosexuality: The Example of the Marais, Paris’ ‘Gay Ghetto’. Urban Studies,41(9), 1739-1758.

Toronto, Trans-Canada Press (1951). The Canadian Who’s Who… Toronto Trans- Canada Press, Vol. 5 (1949-1951).

WHO WERE THE LAVENDER LIBRARIANS?

BY: BRENNA PLADSEN

Lavender Librarian membership pamphlet. Photo by author.

Interior of the Lavender Librarian membership pamphlet,

with organizational background and mandate. Photo by author

Resource guide on the reverse of the Lavender Librarian
membership pamphlet. Photo by author.

In the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives there is a slim file for the Lavender Librarians. Inside is a barrel-folded pamphlet, printed on lavender cardstock. The name references a traditional colour of non-hetronormativity. As a sign of its ubiquity, there are 51 periodicals in the CLGA with Lavender in the title, spanning all genders and orientations, from the 70s to the mid 2010’s. The Lavender Librarians was a short-lived group started in 1993, their mandate to actively promote positive information on the LGBT communities, specifically in libraries, and to promote a network of information professionals focused on LGBT topics. [1]

1993 was on a cusp in LGBT history. The Equality Rights Statute Amendment Act, which would have legalized same-sex spousal in Ontario, was being written. This legislation would have guaranteed spousal rights to same-sex couples, a benefit prevalent in the private sector. [2] While ultimately defeated, it was an important milestone for LGBT rights in Ontario. Also in 1993, CBC radio airs The Last Closet only a few months after a LGBT spa in Toronto is bombed.

The Librarians’ principles of equality of access to information and combating censorship through exclusion were particularly poignant at that moment. Libraries didn’t acquire LGBT fiction, which wasn’t a properly listed subject heading at that time. This was during a time when AIDS was still a fatal disease and it was still associated with gay men. [3] LGBT subject headings still dealt primarily with legal or psychology, so finding LGBT-friendly fiction was difficult. [4] To counter this reality, the Lavender Librarians successfully lobbied the Toronto Public Library to add activity of the Gay and Lesbian Collection to their publications and wrote against the Hamilton Public Library’s exclusion of Xtra!, Toronto’s primary gay newspaper. [5] Adding accessibility LGBT-friendly material was meant to shift the negative association and provide positive models for LGBT library patrons, especially youth.

The Toronto Public Library’s Gay and Lesbian Collection, now the LGBT Collection, is in the Yorkville branch of the institution. A finding guide for fiction and teen is available on site.

The Lavender Librarians disbanded in 1994 due to lack of membership. However, Norman Kester, their coordinator, immediately started interviewing and collecting writings about queer librarians. In 1997, McFarland & Company published Liberating Minds.

Footnotes

1. Lavender Librarian (1993) [Strategic Plan] Lavender Librarians: File 1. Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives: Toronto.

2. Rae, Bob. (Jun 9, 1994) Hearing on the Equality Rights Statue Law Amendment Act, 1994. Legislative Assembly of Ontario. Retrieved November 26, 2015 < http://hansardindex.ontla.on.ca/hansardEISSUE/35-3/l141.htm#TopOfPage >

3. Herek, G.H & Capitinio, J.P. (1999) AIDS Stigma and Sexual Prejudice in American Behavioural Scientist 42 pp 1126-1143. Retrieved Nov 25, 2015 <http://psychology.ucdavis.edu/rainbow/html/abs99_sp.pdf> 1126.

4. Turner, D.A. (1997) Community Pressures to Censor Gay and Lesbian Materials. in Liberating Minds: the Stories and Professional Lives of Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Librarians and their Advocates, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 150.

5. Kester, Norman. (1997) Out & Proud in the Public Library. in Liberating Minds: the Stories and Professional Lives of Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Librarians and their Advocates, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 183, 189.

6. ibid, 188.

7. Lavender Librarian (1994) [Newsletter] Lavender Librarians: File 1. Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives: Toronto.

A NEW SPIN ON THINGS: TORONTO'S FIRST LGBTQ PRECISION COLOR GUARD UNIT

BY: ALEX ROBICHAUD

Overhead view of the ROTC twirling rifles at the CGLA.
Taken by Alex Robichaud.

Close-up of damage. Taken by Alex Robichaud.

Above are photos of two wooden twirling rifles that were once used by the Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps (ROTC), a Toronto division of the LGBTQ precision color guard units known in other cities such as Chicago and Seattle. Unfortunately, the rifles were twirled by ROTC members this year during their last Toronto Pride Parade, and have since been donated to the Canadian Gay and Lesbian Archives (CGLA) in Toronto.

The ROTC, a name derived from a cheeky play on the title of the U.S. military’s Reserved Officer Training Corps, was considered Toronto’s first openly gay precision color guard unit. Precision color guards are derived from military parade groups and can be recognized as the performers who proudly display their colors by spinning flags, rifles, and sabers. The ROTC was known for the incorporation of popular music and the iconic rainbow flag into these traditional color guard performances, becoming a staple of Toronto’s annual Gay Pride Parade.

Final group photo of the ROTC during their last Toronto Pride Parade performance in 2015. 

Via ROTC’s Official Facebook Page.

In 1995, the ROTC Toronto performed for the very first time at Pride. The founder of the ROTC, Michael Grimes, claimed that “we just wanted to show people that not all gays were freaks—because [the parade] really was a freak show back then.” Grimes’ vision that twirling could be a way to promote acceptance of the LGBTQ community lead to the formation of the ROTC’s mandate to create “positive image of gays and lesbians both within, and outside of Toronto’s [LGBTQ] community,” a central goal of group’s operations over the past 20 years.

In a commitment to community outreach, the ROTC toured annually throughout the Ontario region, becoming an important component of various local Christmas parades, festivals, and fairs. Robert Maglione, former president of the ROTC, recalls the visible impact these performances had on people living outside of Toronto and noted the connection the group brought to “gay and lesbian people who would be shocked to see the pride flag coming down the street in their little town.”

But the ROTC did not stop in Ontario—

Recently, two members of the ROTC travelled to Washington D.C. to join The Lesbian and Gay Band Association for a performance at Barack Obama’s 2nd inauguration. This opportunity allowed members of ROTC Toronto to expand their creativity to an entirely new audience and gain recognition of the significant role the ROTC has played in representing the LGBTQ community.

Sadly, after 20 rewarding years, senior members of the ROTC were ready to step down, making June 28th 2015 the last day the group would perform at the Toronto Pride Parade. Although the rifles now sit motionless in the archives, the connections made by the ROTC live on through the stories these objects can tell, stories that are now part of an on-going LGBTQ history in Toronto.

Bibliography

Chambers, S. (2014, July 9). WorldPride special: An LGBT history of Toronto. Retrieved November 16, 2015, from http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/toronto/good-times- and-bad-key-queer-events-in-toronto/article19239709/ 

Coreless, T. (1997). Give it a Twirl. FAB Magazine.

Gardiner, H. (2015, May 28). Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps - Toronto. Retrieved November 16, 2015, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyxXX5ewSGg

Lesbian and Gay Band Association. (2012). Retrieved November 16, 2015, from http://lgba.org/about/mission-statement/

Mackay, B. (2001, January 8). We're just like everyone else-- except we spin things. National Post.

Members of ROTC march during Obama's 2nd inauguration in Washington, D.C. (2013, February 14). The Mirror.

Parades & Marches. (2015). Retrieved November 16, 2015, from http://www.pridetoronto.com/parades-marches/

ROTC Chicago Flickr. (n.d.). Retrieved December 1, 2015, from https://www.flickr.com/photos/stormdog42/with/4749818212/

ROTC Brochure. (1996). Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps.

ROTC To Cease Operations in July. (2015, May 29). Retrieved October 30, 2015, from http://www.crewmagazine.com/article/rotc-to-cease-operations-in-july/

Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps. (1996). Xtra! Magazine, 294-294.

Ryan, P. (1994, June 16). Ont. says 'no' to same-sex legislation Bill 167 defeated 68-59. Retrieved November 16, 2015, from http://www.theinterim.com/issues/marriage- family/ont-says-‘no’-to-same-sex-legislation-bill-167-defeated-68-59/

"Saratoga High School Marching Band & Color Guard Macy's Thanksgiving Parade 2012." YouTube. YouTube. Web. 1 Dec. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGuMNveRgwU>.

"Seattle Pride Parade 2104 Highlights - Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps." YouTube. YouTube. Web. 1 Dec. 2015.

Smith, D. (1997, June 1). Twirling with the ROTC. Siren Magazine, 2-2. 

GAY PRIDE PARADES IN TORONTO AND AMSTERDAM

BY: KATHERINE SEALLY

A routine police raid on the Stonewall Inn on June 28, 1969 launched six days of riots and protests. The Stonewall Inn was a popular gay bar in New York, and like other gay bars, it survived many raids in its lifetime. In 1969, the raids caused quite the storm with the gay community in New York, making this moment one of the most visible in the fight for gay rights in the Big Apple. In fact, the Stonewall Riots, as they came to be called, galvanized and motivated LGBT rights movements to emerge across the world. The riots were commemorated, starting in 1970, with parades, and from this the modern gay pride parade was born. In New York, and as we will see, in Amsterdam and Toronto, the LGBT communities stood up and marched through the streets with pride.

The Dutch LGBT rights movement was spearheaded by the COC (Cultuur en Ontspanningscentrum or the Center for Culture and Leisure). This organization held the first gay pride event in Amsterdam on June 25, 1977 to commemorate the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, which had occurred eight years before.

Like ‘Pink Saturday’ in the Netherlands, Toronto’s Gay Pride is held annualy during the last week of June. While the LGBT rights movement existed in Canada before 1981, Toronto’s first Pride Parade was held in 1981 after the Bathhouse Raids. Like the raid on the Stonewall Inn, on the night of February 5, 1981, Toronto police raided several bathhouses and arrested almost three-hundred men for being found in a bawdyhouse, which, at that time, was considered a misdemeanor charge. Riots followed the raids and the LGBT community renewed their motivation to seek equal treatment by police and the law. That spring, Toronto hosted its first Pride Parade to commemorate both the Stonewall and Bathhouse raids.

Even before Toronto had a gay pride parade, it had the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives (CLGA). The CLGA has played an active and important role in Toronto’s, and Canada’s, LGBT community since its foundation in 1973. It does most of its work with the support of a vibrant volunteer core, and benefits from an invested and involved community. Their collections contain many historically significant artefacts, but I was immediately drawn to a Dutch poster advertising “Internationale Homodag ‘80”, which literally translates as ‘international gay day’. It was advertising the fourth annual gay pride parade, which in the Netherlands is called “Pink Saturday”.

“Internationale Homodag ‘80”, from the CLGA.
Photo credit: Katherine Seally. 

One of the most interesting things about this poster is the mystery of how it made its way to Canada. The volunteer archivist at the CLGA proposed that it was most likely brought to Toronto by a Dutch delegation to the 7th annual International Gay Association conference, held in Toronto in June 1985. Unfortunately, since there is no documentation associated with the poster, exactly how it ended up in the CLGA will have to remain a mystery, at least for the time being.

Works Cited
(2011 Feb 3). The 1981 Toronto bathhouse riots: Looking back on 30 years of gay liberation. Daily Xtra. Retrieved from http://www.dailyxtra.com/canada/news-and-ideas/news/the-1981-toronto-bathhouse-riots-51955

Alstad, M. (Producer). (nd). The Body Politic: 1981. Queerstory. Video retrieved on 5 Nov 2015, from http://www.queerstory.ca/project/the-body-politic-1981/

International Lesbian and Gay Association. (2013). ILGA 1978-2007. Accessed 5 Nov 2015, from http://ilga.org/about-us/1978-2007-a-chronology/

Reguliersdwarsstraat. (2015). History: Amsterdam Gay Pride. Accessed 5 Nov 2015, from http://www.reguliers.net/history-gaypride.php

Thomas, Nicki. (2011 Feb 4). Thirty years after the bathhouse raids. The Toronto Star. Retrieved from http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2011/02/04/thirty_years_after_ the_bathhouse_raids.html 

KEEP IT CLEAN! THE RISE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN BATHS

BY: LOU YANG

The Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives (CLGA) collects many LGBTQ stories. Among them, I found a story of the rise and fall of the Roman Baths, one of the most famous bathhouses in Toronto. Its story reveals a less known socializing space for members of the gay communities, and speaks to the changing situation of gay rights during the 1960s–1990s.

A glossy colored poster of the Roman Baths,
1978(?), 59×76cm. ©Lou Yang

The CLGA has collected a poster of the Roman Baths , showing its luxurious interior and its location at 740 Bay Street. In 1964, the newly opened Roman Baths became one of the largest modern bathhouses in Canada, a landmark of Toronto. [1] How many copies of the poster were printed in its heyday is hard to estimate.

Sauna, massage and other services listed on the poster look familiar. However, bathhouses back in the 1960s had very specific functions. The CLGA archivist Alan Miller disclosed the activities in bathhouses: Before gay bars became popular, bathhouses were the major socializing space for many members of the gay communities. It was common that sexual activities happened regularly inside the bathhouses. These spaces were a shelter from the outside world, where many gays were hardly respected. Looking closely at the plan of Roman Baths , we can find that the public space like sauna room only occupied less than a quarter, while the rest were all separate rooms for private use.

The floor plan of the Roman Baths, sealed on a green paper,
perhaps removed from the steam house. ©Lou Yang

The 1970s saw the rise of bathhouses in North America. [2] The poster appeared as an advertisement in The Advocate , the oldest American LGBT-interest magazine based on Los Angeles. It seemed common for gay people to travel all the way from the west coast to enjoy a day at the “spa” in Toronto. However, their rights were sometimes threatened and had to be defended. 

The black-and-white advertisement of the Roman Baths
in The Advocate, February 3, 1971, issue 52. ©Lou Yang

The year 1981 witnessed some unfortunate police raids against four gay bathhouses, and the Roman Bath was one of them. 286 men were arrested. [3] Before that day, small raids already created unease, including a roundup in 1978 at the Barracks, another popular Toronto bathhouse, and a monitored washroom at Greenwin Square throughout 1979. [4] After that night, a march was organized at Yonge and Wellesley to protest police’s excessive violence. Next year, the city held its first Pride parade, which evolved into Toronto’s current Pride Week. The bathhouse raids marked a major turning point in the LGBTQ+ history in Canada. [5]

The Roman Baths closed down in 1989. [6] However, Spa Excess appears in Toronto as the present-day Roman Baths. “Implicit rules are observed in the old way; the police just ignore it in a tacit agreement,” Alan Miller concluded with a smile.

Footnotes

1. Donald W. McLeod. (1996). Lesbian & gay liberation in Canada: a selected annotated chronology 1964-1975. Toronto: ECW Press.
2. Laura Armstrong. (2014). A new reality for Toronto’s bathhouses. Retrieved from http://www.thestar.com/business/2014/12/21/a_new_reality_for_torontos_bathhouses
3. Jamie Bradburn. (2011). Historicist: raiding the bathhouses. Retrieved from http://torontoist.com/2011/06/historicist_raiding_the_bathshouses
4. Jamie Bradburn. (2011). Historicist: raiding the bathhouses. Retrieved from http://torontoist.com/2011/06/historicist_raiding_the_bathshouses/
5. Irwin, N. (2005, June 23). Flaunting the past. Xtra (Toronto). p. 13.
6. –(1989). Liquidation sale- Roman’s Ⅱ health and rec. centre. –(unknown newspaper)

*Editor's Note: In an earlier version of this article, the photo of Crews and Tangos, Miss Crews 2015 by Krys Cee was erroneously listed as Crews & Tangos, Drag Race 2014 by Cat Grant. This information was incorrect and we sincerely apologize for the error.

JUST IN TIME FOR #PRIDETO, A 3RD GENDER AT THE ROM

WEEKEND EDITION

BY: NATANIA SHERMAN

Vinyl text at the entrance to A 3rd Gender (Photo: Natania Sherman)

Last week I had the privilege to attend the curator's remarks and a lecture at the ROM’s beautifully designed 3rd Gender exhibition. While I had initially thought I would write a straightforward review, the events of the past week and the fact that it is Pride Month, made me consider what kind of role museums have to play when it comes to representations of people who are often marginalized by mainstream institutions. I know that I'm not the only one having these thoughts, because Incluseum just published a post highlighting ways that museums can be more welcoming to people in the LGBT community through their reputations as safe spaces for learning. The 3rd Gender is an interesting exhibition to look at in this light because it tackles issues of culture, gender, fetishization and sexuality but does so without resorting to a one dimensional narrative.

The 3rd Gender focuses on gender ambiguity in Edo period Japan, when the country was still closed off from the western world. The exhibition discusses gender around the subject of wakashu, meaning youths, young men who had not yet reached adulthood who adopted feminine accoutrements and mannerisms to gain favour from the older merchants or samurai who were their patrons. The wakashu were considered to be great beauties and many of them were desired by both men and women, as evidenced by the many depictions of wakashu with both men, women and sometimes other wakashu in surviving ukiyo-e woodblock prints.

A painted screen in the exhibition (Photo: Natania Sherman)

In some ways, the 3rd Gender exhibition is a uniquely Torontonian exhibit in the way that it creates dialogue around both Japanese culture and the LGBT communities, reflecting the diversity of intersecting cultures in this city and the willingness of museums and their publics to be open to creating dialogue about culture, art and representation. I was pleased to learn from the curator’s remarks that the exhibition was developed with consultation from Sexual Diversity Studies here at the University of Toronto as well as LGBT2AQQ groups and the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre.

Without context it is often difficult to "read" the gender in the images on display. (Photo: Natania Sherman)

In minimalist muted grey with pops of bright orange vinyl text, 3rd Gender is a multimedia exhibition containing a mix of artworks, books, textiles, clothing, objects and film. That being said, I truly think it is the ukiyo-e woodblock prints that steal the show, but that may be my own background as a former printmaking major showing. I was thrilled that the exhibition included not only the prints themselves but the wooden matrices which had to be carved and then inked in order to produce the prints.

I was so excited to see the wooden blocks used to produce the prints (Photo: Natania Sherman)

The other objects that were placed in the exhibition, such as the samurai armour and hair combs, did not on their own serve to enhance the theme of gender ambiguity but, in the context of the exhibition, served to highlight and explicate some of objects depicted in the prints and their gendered qualities. It was also positive to note that the curator chose to discuss sexuality as both part of culture and culturally defined instead of playing up the more sensationalist aspects of the images on display, many of which explicitly depicted sex acts. I was surprised to learn how important elements of culture, like food and fashion, are to understanding the context of the images. For example, when looking at prints from the kabuki era, in which cross dressing was common for men and women, without the subtle cues revealed by hairstyles and accessories, it would be almost impossible to “read” the gender of the individuals depicted. Similarly images of food can reveal the setting of an image because certain foods were only served in brothels, revealing the subjects of the print to be engaged in prostitution. A quite fun element of the exhibition was the subtle humour evidenced in many of the prints and their accompanying texts. The ambiguity of gender allowed for the audience (presumably an adult male contemporary of the printmaker) to feel surprised as they read the painting from right to left and discover that the young woman is in a fact a wakashu cross-dressing for the kabuki theatre or that the characters’ surreptitious activities may have ulterior motives such as a desire for wealth or power.

Some of the objects in the ROM's 3rd Gender Exhibition (Photo: Natania Sherman)

I think if the exhibition reveals anything it is that gender and sexuality and the ways that they are expressed can be culturally formed and that although the controlled and often conservative space of the museum can sometimes sanitize the more sexual elements of historical images, it also forces the visitor to confront their own cultural bias in understanding historical depictions of same sex couples. In fact sex and gender are important ways to understand cultural hierarchies and practices, and when discussed sensitively and without sensationalism can make not only an appropriate museum topic but one that is timely and all too relevant to contemporary events.