Character: Original Character/African Sailor Moon
Series:: Sailor Moon
Cosplayer: Jamila of Girl Gone Geek and Straight Outta Gotham
Photographer: Jmeezys
SUBMISSION
OMG this is so cool!
It is true that the cosplayers who do this generally aren’t slapping on shoe polish or anything that takes them to that offensive level, and they (and their supporters) are always quick to point that out. They’re quick to use words like “appreciation,” as in, they love and appreciate the character so much that they just want to do a good job representing them. They aren’t trying to mock them, but pay homage to them. They aren’t really doing “blackface” because they’re using proper makeup techniques and they don’t look like they’ve just dipped their faces in oil.
But here’s the thing. At the end of the day, those people? They can take the make-up off. They can stop being black.
We can’t.
So I’ll be completely honest, it was both very difficult to wait to weigh in on this, but I knew this article was going up today so I didn’t want to say my thoughts until it went up (since it covers all of my feelings on the subject), and… I was kind of nervous to even write this piece because when this issue comes up, there is a lot of backlash toward people who are against painting your skin. I watched friends get belittled and saw people just trample over their feelings, and I’m not just talking followers, I’m talking about friendships just collapsing because they didn’t want to hear what their black friend had to say.
Before I wrote this I considered either a) not writing it at all or b) just posting something on my page and that being the end of it. But then my frustrations of this being a yearly thing took over and I sat down, looked at as many comments as I could stomach, the different articles, and everything I could before I got my thoughts together and wrote this up in an attempt to break down every reason given that tries to justify changing your skin to represent a different race.
Everything I feel on this issue is in this article, so if you want to know what I think, then all you have to do is read it. If you do decide to comment, I ask that you be respectful to me or anyone else who comments, even if they don’t agree with you. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me, but if we’re going to make any sort of progress, I do hope that people will at least listen.
Today is National Coming Out Day, so I wanted to write up something about coming out, especially since our 14 year anniversary was 3 days ago :)
I was thinking about it today and how, when I told my mom, she was completely accepting and even wondered why I would hesitate to tell her in the first place. And she’s right, because my mom has never been the judgmental type, and has always been supportive.
But thinking about it today I realized that my hesitation didn’t really stem from being worried about telling her… it stemmed from the realization that this was going to be a thing I would have to do, multiple times, and there would be different reactions each time.
Because despite what they make it sound like… you don’t come out just once.
The first person I came out to was myself. I had to admit it to myself and that took some getting used to. Growing up, queer representation was scarce, and black queer representation was pretty much nonexistent save for the sassy black friend, the butt of the joke, or the “don’t tell anyone” and being ashamed of it. It’s still an issue now. There’s still a lack of representation, and there are people who make you feel like you have to choose one over the other in regards to which you will support when the truth of the matter is… you need support of both, because they’re both a part of your life.
So the idea of even being gay was scary because it wasn’t a thing in the black community, as far as I knew when I was 18 and going off to college in 2001. It wasn’t something that was talked about, and the one big example I had in my neighborhood was labelled as “being confused” because she went between men and women. The expectation was to have a boyfriend, so when I realized I liked a girl I thought there was something wrong with me. So it took a moment for be to even speak it out loud.
Then I started coming out to people. The benefit was that I was in college, away from home, in an environment where a lot of people were really starting to get to know themselves and grow. It also helped that I was in the college of Liberal Arts and Science, so the idea of being gay wasn’t like this alien concept. It was something we discussed in Women’s Studies, people wrote about it in my English classes, we had professors with Safe Zone stickers, so coming out in college wasn’t really difficult.
The difficult part was coming back home for holiday breaks and shutting all of that down, because back at home, I wasn’t queer, I was the straight girl whose boyfriend had stopped talking to her when she went off to college, and who, someday, would have a boyfriend again – maybe even a husband and children. But the moment I told my mom I knew that was the start of coming out to different people in my family and friend circles back at home, and I was terrified.
While I definitely had “back at home” friends and family who wouldn’t care, there were some I was worried about. It’s not like they showed severely homophobic tendencies, but sometimes, they’d say things that would make me go, “Oh.” A comment on a gay character in a movie, or a gay person in general. Maybe a derogatory term about that person. The fact that I had had a boyfriend before just made me even more nervous, because, “You’re just confused,” or, “It’s just a phase,” or even, “Is this because of Women’s Studies,” came to mind (fun fact: all of those things have been said to me while coming out) Things like that stick with you when you decide to come out, and even if this is a person who is normally understanding and loving toward you… you remember those moments. And it wasn’t easy coming out to these people, particularly my dad, but I eventually did and they eventually got used to it and don’t treat me any differently.
But, after all that, I had to go and come out to my partner’s parents, and that was an entirely different layer of stress. I won’t really go into it because that’s her own story, but let’s just say I was a roommate for several years before finally getting the daughter-in-law status I have today. But it didn’t stop there, I had to come out again when I started working because people would ask about the ring on my finger, or just assume I had a boyfriend because I worked in a video game store, or even the simple question of who can use your employee discount and explaining that you don’t have a spouse because it wasn’t legal at the time. And then I had to come out again at my grandmother’s funeral because my partner came with me. People asked, “Who is that girl,” because she was sitting with us, up front, with the rest of the family.
So this process is constant, and continuous, and will probably never end. I’ll meet someone else who doesn’t realize that “partner” means life partner. And that’s fine, because it’s not like I feel the need to explain to every person I meet on the street about my sexuality. You kinda know who you want to tell. I just want people to realize why coming out is such a big deal. Even if you’re supportive and just don’t understand why someone close to you wouldn’t tell you, the truth of the matter is that you are one person out of several that is going to be told this information. So those nerves aren’t just from your reaction, but from a lifetime of reactions that are coming up. That’s why your support is so valuable, because there is a high chance that your loved one is going to run into someone they have to come out to who won’t be supportive, whether it’s directly, or indirectly.
So when that loved one decides to be open with you, don’t just reassure them that you’re 100% o.k. with them, thank them for opening up to you, and trusting you with that information :)
Happy National Coming Out Day <3
Watch: Raven Symoné just took internalized racism to a new level.
And speaking of “black names,” a new study confirmed that those with said names are treated differently, and often worse, than those with “white names.”
Lmfao whoopis reaction is priceless
Whoopi: “This bitch too coon even more than me. She did not just say tga6t”
Whoopi’s reaction is a mix of “Good think you don’t do the hiring” and “I wish I could do some firing.”
If the protagonist is queer, and the story doesn't revolve around romance, then why is the protagonist queer in the first place if it's largely irrelevant? I'm simply curious .
AnonymousBecause our lives are not defined by romance and sex and we deserve better and more diverse stories than that.
If the protagonist is straight, and the story doesn’t revolve around romance, then why is the protagonist straight in the first place if it’s largely irrelevant?
Oh wait, it’s like straight people are allowed to be more than romantic partners and can, gasp, have personalities beyond “who should I hook up with?”
Also see, “Wait you mean black people can be more than the sassy friend or the slang user,” and, “Oh wow fat people don’t just wonder when the next meal is or lament about not being beautiful enough to love?”
14 years ago, I was 18 years old and starting my first year of college at Iowa State University. It was my first time away from my home, my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. However, over the summer, I had joined a Gundam Wing yaoi mailing list, wrote a bunch of fics, and met a lot of great people.
This included a girl named Jessica who went by Snow Tigra.
Over time, the two of us started talking more online, and we became friends. She was there for me when my boyfriend stopped talking to me, and even sent me a plushie white tiger so I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Spoiler: I still have that tiger and it comes to cons with me.
We started writing fics together, and chatting more and more, and at one point during one of our chats she mentioned how she had a crush on this girl in one of her classes. I went along with it, but when we were done chatting, I realized something.
I was jealous.
I was jealous that she liked another girl.
And then… I proceeded to ignore her because, in that moment, I discovered that I liked girls.
I thought, “no, no way,” because up until that point I had had a boyfriend, and all the friends I grew up had also had boyfriends. Being gay was out of the question, I was supposed to find a guy and marry him. So I avoided talking to her at all cost, would say I was too busy, but, after a while, I started to miss her.
So finally, one day, I went to the campus library and wrote the email that would change my life forever. I told her why I had stopped talking to her and not only came out, but admitted that I liked her. She was stunned, but decided that it would be best if we took things slow. We hadn’t even met in person, yet, and I did just break up with my boyfriend. I agreed, but we quickly realized that, nope, that wasn’t enough either.
So, on this day, 14 years ago, we decided to start dating. This involved a lot of chatting, fic writing, roleplaying with different characters, sending each other gifts, meeting up at conventions, her coming to see me on a monthly basis from Minnesota to Iowa, and finally, after I graduated in 2006, I got in her car with all of my stuff and moved to Minnesota.
I never knew, all those years ago, that that email I was writing was going to lead to me meeting this amazing woman who would become my support system, my seamstress, my coauthor, just… everything, absolutely everything. I had no idea that we’d have this house with these cats. I had no idea that we’d be creating art together. I had no idea that we would becoming inspirations to people. I had no idea that we’d be talking about so many issues together and promoting such positive messages. I had no idea, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Anniversary. I love you :)
So I got my DAN!Naoto cosplay together!! All I really have to do is fix the sleeves but other than that I have everything else! I’m going to NYCC as Naoto on Saturday and I can’t wait!
The last photo was me attempting to do the pose in the previous shot. It’s not very easy to do especially when you’re home alone with no one else to take the picture for you.
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!
Also holy crap my wifey makes that hat and it looks so slick on you <3 <3 <3
“It’s ironic, he thinks, that he’s only allowed to openly have certain fetishes.”
Lemon Wedges is one of those stories I knew I would love from the very first line. Briana Lawrence spins a short, sassy, surprisingly sensual story. It’s fun and thoughtful at the same time, filled with interesting reflections on the idea of fetish, and laced with gorgeous illustrations of fetish exploration.What makes a fetish?Does it matter if anybody else knows?Why are some fetishes more taboo than others?Are fetishes better when they’re shared?
I loved the contrast of a tatooed, pierced, dark-clothed bad boy getting so weak in the knees over a pair of bright yellow lemon wedges. His fetish begins and ends with the shoes, but he shares a crossdresser’s appreciation for the way they look and feel, and the way they alter his entire body shape. His roommate has never given them much thought, but a moment of curiosity quickly gives way to appreciation, and suddenly the door is open to sharing something even deeper.
It all comes down to excitement - it’s what defines both the story and the fetish, and Briana does a lovely job of capturing it.
YAY! I got a phenomenal review on my short, erotica story!
You can get your own copy here! And please let me know what you think and leave a review, I’m always happy to get feedback on my writing :)
