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Queer Praxis

Questions for LGBTQ Worldmaking

Edited By Dustin Bradley Goltz and Jason Zingsheim

Amidst rapid advances of mainstream gay and lesbian platforms, questions of essential sexual identities, queered rituals of family, queered notions of intimacy, queer considerations of time, and the possibility and value of queered systems of relation are largely absent. Resisting the public face of a normative and homogenous gay and lesbian community, and embracing a broadened conception of queerness, this book brings together 29 writers – a diverse community of scholars, lovers, and activists – to explore queer theory and embodied experiences within interpersonal relations and society at large. Enacting a critical intervention into the queer theoretical landscape, the book offers an alternative engagement where contributors centralize lived experience. Theoretical engagements are generated in relation and in dialogue with one another exploring collectivity, multiple points of entrance, and the living nature of critical theory. Readers gain familiarity with key concepts in queer thought, but also observe how these ideas can be navigated and negotiated in the social world. Queer Praxis serves as a model for queer relationality, enlisting transnational feminist, critical communication, and performance studies approaches to build dialogue across and through differing subjectivities.
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24. Gray’s Anatomy



In the gay world, turning 30 with grace is akin to “Take Back the Night.” When I close my eyes, I see myself in a bar filled to the brim with gabies (gay babies) and youth-obsessed clones who drone on and on about spray tanZZZ. In the daydream, I scream, “I refuse to be an age victim! I release the gaymmunity’s impossible expectations, ignore youth-oriented pontifications, and turn a cheek away from age evaluations! I take back the night! Gay men over 29, unite!”

I remember thinking 30 was an expiration date. I remember dreading the day my “milk” would go “bad.” I remember telling my friend Paul, “If I’m 30 and still going to gay bars, Old Yeller me. I want a bullet to eat my brain. I will not be one of those lame bar trolls at whom we snicker and flick our cigarettes.”

Then Earth rotated around the sun a few times, and the moon’s gravitational force pulled and tugged at my flesh. My outlook changed; my brainwaves hit troughs and crests. I looked down at the Tweety Bird tattooed on my left shoulder and came to a frightful realization:

I’m—gasp—not—shudder—going to be—ahem—18 forever? Can I write a letter to somebody about this whole aging thing? May I speak to the manager, or Mother Nature’s supervisor? What’s that you say? Mother Nature IS the supervisor on duty? Certainly somebody’s...

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