Journal of Lesbian Studies最新文献

For a special issue on Solidarity within the LGBTQ + community edited by Finn Mackay and Nikki Hayfield, Ella Ben Hagai, the editor of the Journal of Lesbian Studies interviewed Susan Stryker. Susan Stryker is a lesbian historian whose research, books, and films were pathbreaking in creating the field of trans* studies. I interviewed Susan to better understand the connections between queer cultures and the emergence of trans scholarship. I was also interested in her perspectives on the sort of solidarities that played a role in the trans revolution today. In the last part of the interview, I discuss with Stryker the political obstacles facing trans people and forms of solidarity necessary to face the current backlash in the U.S. against LGBTQ + people in general. In her interview, Stryker highlights the connection between BDSM subcultures, women of color feminism, and the emergence of trans* scholarship. She discusses the historical galvanization of trans and queer resistance around police violence and carceral logics, drawing lessons for overcoming current divisions in the queer community. Speaking about contemporary politics in the United States, Stryker illuminates the backlash against feminism and transgender rights and provides inspiration toward a strategy of united front politics.

The fearless ancient Amazons have been seen as forebears and prototypes by lesbians, feminists, and transgender men. In this introduction, I will explore why the Greek legends of the Amazons lend themselves to such interpretation. Ancient Greek literature details how the Amazons challenged patriarchy, lived without men, and defeated their male enemies, thus setting a precedent that would later be emulated by feminists and lesbians. Though the Amazons are clearly designated as women they are also identified with men in ancient Greek lore; in ancient Greek vase painting, they wear masculine outfits and engage in masculine habits, including fighting and hunting. Thus I will examine the Amazons' gender transgression in ancient Greek contexts in order to understand how and why these myths set the stage for the adoption of the Amazons as role models by later generations of gender nonconformists. I will also briefly examine the history behind those myths, a history which is just as important to lesbian and other queer communities as the myths which it spawned. Finally, I will weave my analysis of the ancient Greek ideology of Amazons with innovative, new research on the reception of the Amazons found in the six other articles that make up this special edition. These essays explore the powerful place of Amazons and Amazon-like women in the imaginaries of peoples ranging from the ancient Romans to modern lesbian feminists, and the importance of historical and legendary warrior women who defied patriarchy and colonialism in locales ranging from the West to Africa to India.

This article offers a critical reflection on my creative engagement with the figure of the Amazon in the quilted artworks for my exhibition Archives and Amazons: quilting the lesbian archive which took place at HOME, Manchester in 2021. This exhibition was created in response to archival research at the only accredited museum in the UK dedicated to women, Glasgow Women's Library (GWL), which holds the remnants of the now disbanded Lesbian Archive and Information Centre (LAIC) (1984-1995). I engage specifically with two representations of Amazons, from two very disparate and politically opposed lesbian publications: firstly the illustrated cover of the LAIC newsletter, and a photographic series by the artist Tessa Boffin (1960-1993). Through auto-ethnography I articulate some of the pleasures and complexities in encountering, and re-visioning the Amazons that ride within the remaining fragments of the LAIC collection. I propose the quilt as a reparative strategy for engaging with the Amazon, one that refuses to disassemble and disassociate from the difficulties of lesbian history, re-assembling the pieces through a contemporary lesbian lens.

This study addressed the relative liberalism of White lesbians. In doing so, we compared sexuality differences in White women's reactions to sexual, gender, and racial hierarchies. In the end, our analysis of 2,950 women from the American National Election Survey (ANES) suggested three trends. First, lesbians and bisexual women rejected and challenged heteronormativity more than heterosexual women. Second, the relationship between sexual identities and feminist commitments was less consistent. Lesbians and bisexual women perceived higher levels of sexist discrimination than heterosexual women did, but sexual identities did not always predict involvement in feminist social movements. Third, lesbian women generally displayed greater support of antiracist activism than bisexual or heterosexual women. However, this greater lesbian concern over racial biases did not translate in sexual differences in antiracist activism. Implications for these findings were explored, as were suggestions of future research.

This article examines the interplay of queer reproduction and private assisted reproductive technologies (ART) companies in urban China. While same-sex marriage has not gained legal recognition in mainland China and childbirth outside heterosexual marriage has been restricted, queer parents who have children through ART have gradually become visible. ART has emerged as an ideal way for Chinese queer citizens to have children, though they are not legally permitted to use ART services in domestic hospitals. Consequently, an increasing number of queer intended parents turned to underground ART businesses, with some of them becoming salespeople or business owners themselves. My ethnographic analysis comes from fieldworks conducted in Guangdong province, China, from 2018 to 2021. This paper shows that the legal and moral debates brought by queer people's use of ART are perceived differently among diverse gender and sexual groups in Chinese society. It founds that queer parents' participation in the ART industry has demonstrated the potential for queer forms of parenthood and family, while reinforcing stratified reproduction and gender inequalities. The tendency to reduce IVF/surrogacy to "womb-for-rent" business among Chinese ART businesses continues to impact queer people's reproductive and parenting rights. This paper hopes to offer insights into queer reproductive justice and reproductive technologies across the globe.

In 1853, Rosa Bonheur first exhibited what would become her most widely celebrated work: The Horse Fair. Although the work's modern setting and animal-focused subject matter do not obviously characterize it as an instance of classical reception, the artist claimed that it was inspired by the Parthenon frieze. A significant amount of feminist and queer scholarship has been dedicated to Rosa Bonheur's life, career, and art practices, all of which reveal the complex ways in which the artist negotiated the gender norms of 19th-century France. These ranged from her decision never to marry, instead living in households with two women, to her officially sanctioned practice of cross-dressing when conducting art studies in public. In view of all these things, one of the most remarkable elements of The Horse Fair is the very probable inclusion of the artist's self-portrait, clad in masculine clothing and riding with legs astride her mount. Taking seriously Bonheur's Parthenonian quotation, how should her self-portrait within the male-dominated arena of the horse market be understood? The author argues that, by classical analogy, Bonheur may be regarded as a gender-bending Amazon of a sort that was radically distinct from the scores of so-called "amazones" promenading about Paris. A comparative consideration of contemporary visualizations of the Amazonian rider trope suggests that Bonheur appropriates and, as it were, refashions this modish, gendered imagery to make a bold statement of women's equality with men.

In this article, Amazon imagery serves as a case study for the complicated relationship of lesbian separatist movements of the 1970s and the classical Greek tradition. I consider how the use of mythological figures allowed lesbian feminists to rewrite and subvert dominant patriarchal narratives in ways that furthered their revolutionary projects. I argue that the nature of mythology is fundamentally fluid, collaborative, and open to queer reinterpretations and appropriations in ways that are rich with symbolic potential. Furthermore, the creation of separatist communities approximates an act of nation-building, and it is useful to consider other attempts to construct and theorize nations, ranging from Homi Bhabha on post-/anticolonial resistance to Berlant and Freeman on Queer Nationality. In particular, when considering a lesbian movement, we should remember that queer theory is messy because queerness itself is messy and resists boundaries and classification. Furthermore, what Ward frames as "dyke methods" (or dyke-centric queer methods) insist on categories that are fluid, messy, and shifting in their classifications and drawn toward as-yet-unknown queer possibilities. To study lesbian separatists with dyke methods is to embark on "an antiessentialist and interdisciplinary project" without necessarily "making a commitment to balanced ideas" (pp. 82-83). It is my hope that a messy, queer analysis of Amazonian symbolism in the construction of a lesbian nationalism will ultimately offer intriguing, if at times contradictory, possibilities.

This essay is a reflection and assessment of the ConFem and faculty collective's queer Chicanx/Latinx intergenerational solidarity activism. In conversation with abolition feminisms, transformative justice practices, and queer performance studies, we illustrate the shifts the collective effected toward queerer Chicanx/Latinx feminist futurities. Our collective solidarity praxis was an intervention that actively undermined the anti-solidarity machinations of the state's social hierarchical ordering at the site of the university. This essay addresses the collective's strategic move to shift away from supplicating or engaging with the state for appeasement or resolution of violence, and instead to turn to harnessing the power of queer Chicanx/Latinx visionary artists to unleash queer feminist Chicanx/Latinx counterpublics and imagination.

Recent far-right and religious fundamentalist coalitions in Europe and the U.S. seek populist support through "anti-gender" rhetoric. These coalitions are in alignment with the manosphere in endorsement of biological essentialism and antifeminist, anti-LGBTQ stances. Based upon an examination of the data gathered for projects examining two manosphere communities (Red Pill and Incel), a clear picture emerges wherein they casually disparage lesbians and conflate lesbians with feminists, unearthing 1970s and 1980s political lesbian writings and discussing them out of context. Ironically, the dissatisfaction with gender relations that drove lesbian separatists at the time drives the manosphere, especially Incel, to be even more misogynistic and violent in service of their feelings of entitlement to women's bodies. This can be understood as part of a backlash against feminist and LGBTQ rights that is empowering fascists using anti-gender rhetoric in their rise to power.

This article examines a framing of solidarity as both activism and community care work in diasporic South Asian (sometimes referred to as "Desi") communities in the US and the UK. From the vantage point of the researcher as a pansexual Indian-American activist herself, this article draws conclusions based on ethnographic research and interviews conducted with lesbian, gay, queer, and trans activists during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic and Black-led uprisings against police and state violence in the US and the UK. These conversations and this article particularly examine the participation of Desi activists and their peers in these movements, and their explorations of different modes of solidarity, from joint struggle to allyship to coconspiratorship and community transformation. They ultimately argue that queerness in Desi diaspora fosters solidarity through care that nurtures relationships across and between the diverse groups that make up LGBTQ + communities and the Desi diaspora, as well as between Desi, Black, and other racialized and diasporic communities. By examining lesbian, gay, trans, and broadly queer South Asian activists' relationships to each other and to other racialized groups in struggle, this article conceptualizes a framing of solidarity and Black and Brown liberation together that transcends difference, transphobia and TERFism, and anti-Blackness through centering kinship and care. Through the intimacies borne out of months and years on the frontlines of struggle together, this article argues that deepening an understanding of activism, kinship, and care together in Desi diasporic organizing is key to building a solidarity that imagines and moves toward new and liberated worlds.