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 No where is there a discussion on the outdated language and slurs that run rampant throughout the displays.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.

EATING THE CITY: MOHAI IN SEATTLE, WA

A MUSE BOUCHE

BY: ERIKA ROBERTSON

Look, the logo even has a little spoon! Photo by Erika Robertson

I’ve been looking forward to talking about MOHAI’s temporary exhibition, Edible City, for months. MOHAI is a unique Seattle institution located in a beautiful park on South Lake Union. This exhibit about the city's food industry fit perfectly within the museum’s mandate. In fact, it’s in the title: Museum Of History And Industry. My friend Emily and I spent hours exploring the galleries, only stopping because we were hungry!

But wait, what's this? We're here to talk about food, but there's "no food or drink." Again conservation efforts clash with interpretive goals. Photo by Erika Robertson.

The exhibit began by locating the subject of food within the museum’s vision of innovation and diversity. Introductory panels and videos seem to claim ‘this is Seattle.’ When a video of Valerie Segrest, a member of the Muckleshoot Indian Tribe, discussed the importance of food sovereignty, it was rooted in both historical and contemporary issues. The Big Idea situated Seattle's cuisine as young and multicultural while staying true to local ingredients.

Looks like food won: this jacket is made from used hamburger wrappers with real French fries! I wonder how collections staff handle that challenge. By artist Dorothy Rissman. Photo by Erika Robertson.

My only critique is that the celebratory tone could have been more critical by addressing current issues that directly impact the museum’s audiences. According to the National Restaurant Association, 10% of America’s workforce is in the restaurant industry. That's 14.7 million employees. This labour, often performed by immigrants, is vital to Seattle's culture. It’s also undervalued, as shown by the resistance to a $15 minimum wage in Seattle. (For a time, I was one of those workers. It's not glamorous, but I wouldn't call it a low-skill job). That’s an example of a critical conversation that museums could facilitate.

The exhibit gives an overview of the food industry within a historical context: from harvesting and foraging, through processing, to serving. Considering how much ground it covers, Edible City has surprising depth through interactive elements. The online component offers many ways to become more informed and involved in food issues. Emily and I were both excited to make the “signature recipes” later. She loves to bake while I’m more into vegetables, and we both found recipes we wanted to try.

Emily enjoys her tomato soup and "South Lake Grilled Cheese." Photo by Erika Robertson.

After several hours, rumbling stomachs pulled Emily and I out of Edible City and into the South Lake Café. Like the exhibit, its menu celebrated local flavours with all their international influences. I couldn’t resist Tim’s thick-cut jalapeño potato chips, which brought me back to lunches shared with my mom when I was little. The café also features locally roasted espresso and beer from Pike Place and Fremont breweries (two of my favourites, incidentally).

What's "Cascade style" about jalepeño chips? Who cares, they're delicious. Photo by Erika Robertson.

In short, MOHAI’s Edible City hits the Venn diagram of my interests: Pacific Northwest, food, and museums. As LeVar Burton says, “but you don’t take my word for it.” Next week you’ll be able to hear what the hilarious hosts of Spilled Milk Podcast think of it.

Have you worked in the food industry? How would you like to see those experiences discussed in museums?

BEER WITH ALIENS: EMP MUSEUM IN SEATTLE, WA

A MUSE BOUCHE

BY: ERIKA ROBERTSON

My post today is part exhibit review, part restaurant review, and aims to answer the question: can I imagine an exhibit without food? (If you're not sure what I'm talking about, check out my first article). 

It's that sign again! Photo by Erika Robertson

I think any stay in Seattle should include a visit to the EMP Museum. I have fond memories of the EMP's music-focused exhibits on the Beatles and Nirvana, but its mission has expanded since I was little. Today it's dedicated to “the ideas and risk-taking that fuel contemporary popular culture” (source). It feels like the astonishing building, designed by starchitect Frank O. Gehry, houses miles of exhibits. They delve into such diverse subjects as video games, guitars, and horror movies. The centerpiece of the museum is the “Sky Church,” a concert venue by night and massive HD LED screen used to display music videos during the day. I overheard a visitor ask if it was a projector and a staff member responded, “It’s the real deal—only in Paul Allen’s museum!” This museum is a place to let your imagination run wild.

Sky Church: the real deal. Photo by Erika Robertson

 

But I was there for the blockbuster exhibit, “Star Trek: Exploring New Worlds.” I know as much about Star Trek as an average person, but I wondered if an exhibit about science fiction would involve food. The EMP also boasts an in-house restaurant called Pop. Would their menu be a continuation of the galleries?

Sextant used by Benjamin Sisko, captain of the Enterprise in Deep Space Nine. Photo by Erika Robertson

 

The exhibit presented Star Trek as a positive influence on society through its diverse cast and optimistic vision for the future. The first floor touched on each of the series and movies, which gave outsiders like me a good introduction to Star Trek culture. The second floor focused on how the franchise has inspired scientists and engineers to build the utopian vision of the future through hand-held communicators and voice-activated computers. But would there be food in the future?

After ogling the beautiful artifacts, I finally spotted food in the galleries. Not surprisingly, the hit franchise has inspired a lot of merchandise, including Cardassian cookbooks and Romulan ale. The drinks were available in the gift shop, but I wasn't brave enough to try them. I wish I could report on what Cardassians cook, but the only copy was behind glass. I had evidence that even science fiction exhibits include food. My curiosity partially satisfied, I headed to Pop for more substantial fare.

The restaurant itself looks a bit like a spaceship. Photo by Erika Robertson

 

Pop’s happy hour specials were delicious, if not topical. I enjoyed the Pop burger, but it did not deepen my appreciation for popular culture. Our fabulous server revealed that she was the genius behind the “rocktails,” or cocktails named after classic hits. I stuck to my local red ale, which I definitely recommend. Classic music videos played on overhead TV screens, extending Sky Church's impact. Music added to every part of the museum without being intrusive.

Pop is a Wolfgang Puck restaurant contracted to the EMP. Because the celebrity chef’s name is not on the sign, the location has more creative freedom. Our server was enthusiastic about an upcoming remodel and seasonal specials. Maybe next time I visit, Cardassian specialties will be on the menu.

If anyone has insights into alien cookbooks, let me know. I’m really curious now!