Hairspray: The Divine Right of Queens

Kevin Naff, managing editor of the Washington Blade has called for a boycott of Hairspray because the part of Edna Turnblad is being played by John Travolta, a Scientologist; and Scientology has a pretty poor track record when it comes to homosexuality. The argument is that the part of Edna Turnblad, played in the original movie by the late great drag queen Divine, should be played by someone else, someone more gay palatable who doesn’t belong to a religion with a history . Apparently, there are as many different opinions about this boycott as there are “world’s first clears”. It’s not my intention here to talk about the duplicity of Scientology, the acting skills or alleged homosexual history of John Travolta, the ire of Kevin Naff, or even the boycott itself. I just want to raise some questions, questions that popped into my head while pondering the whole thing.

First of all, should gay roles go to gay actors? Not an easy question to answer. The spirit of this question has been around a long time. Should Loni Anderson play an American Indian? Should Al Jolsen sing in blackface? Should Katherine Hepburn play Chinese? The answer isn’t easy. On one hand, movie makeup today is amazing, we can make Tyra Banks or Eddie Murphy a morbidly obese girl. When they remake The Color Purple (the musical) they should think of box office draw and put Nicole Kidman in the lead role.

Interesting. Because of the “lack” of Native American actors filmmakers often use Hispanic actors or even Caucasians without much problem for films. Asians are interchangeable in Asian roles—Chinese roles are played by actors of Japanese, Korean, or other descents. African American roles are the exception rather than the rule. Black roles are played by black actors. Complex issue, no?

Bottom line. There’s no easy answer. Movies that have used Native Americans in Indian roles have been well received. I could go on but I think you probably get the point. It takes more effort to cast ethnic actors in matching ethnic roles, but it can payoff. Conversely, acting is about pretending, it’s about “passing”. Hollywood is illusion and great actors create great artifice and if they succeed then more power to them. Sometimes great artifice is not required. Sometimes all that’s needed is a warm body.

Should gay actors play gay roles? Sure. Are there straight actors who have played gay roles right? Yes. Out gay actors have it rough in Hollywood. Is the situation comparable to Hattie McDaniel or Eartha Kitt? Yes and no: different time, different animal, exactly the same and totally different. There is no easy answer. (I'm still waiting for the gay equivalent of Sidney Poitier.)

There are out-gay actors out there. Rupert Everett, Ian McKellan, etc. They get roles. They work. They are incredible actors and deserve respect for being open and for being good actors. Interestingly the majority of out gay actors who get regular big budget work are older and somehow less threatening. I’m not saying they are “gay Uncle Toms” (or Auntie Toms) but there aren’t many virile young out-gay box office smashes for whatever reasons. (There is a bit of Auntie Tomism in Hollywood and its probably a step up the ladder. The wise old gay man or mostly sexless best friend is much less threatening then an out Rock Hudson type playing a straight role.) Progress has been made and progress must be made.

Finally (and on a bit of a tangent), Travolta said that there was nothing gay about the character or the movie. He’s absolutely right and he’s not. There’s a history there, a glorious gay history involving John Waters, Divine, camp and a progression of films that spans years from mainly gay audiences to mainstream worldwide release. John Waters said that Naff is out of line. Waters, like Travolta, is on the money and off the mark. It’s unfortunate that lines have been drawn and sides have been taken. What can we do to create open inclusive dialog? Inclusive of Scientology, homosexuality, capitalism, Star-power, politics and camp. Good luck.

When Naff suggested Divine was spinning in her grave, John Waters responded that Divine was not political at all. There’s real power in that. Divine was Divine. By just being, unapologetically without assault or malice (though often taken as such) larger than life, changes occur; no politics involved.

Travolta wears a prosthetic fat suit in this movie. He’s no more a drag queen than Tyra Banks is a 400 lb woman. Should there be a boycott? I don’t think it matters. According to some, John Waters has sold out (or maybe stayed the same while the world changed). I think all of that is just sour grapes. Scientology (which I personally have no love for) isn’t as homophobic as it was when Old Mother Hubbard was still alive. Hairspray is not the same movie it was. And Travolta is no Divine.

Ultimately, I think anyone can play a gay role. Some have done it well; some have not. Fair or not that’s probably the way it will always be. Now drag queens are another story. Actors can play drag queens and once in a blue moon they do a decent job. (Women actually play better drag queens than men—Mae West for example) I’d like to suggest that drag queen roles, like African American roles, should never be cast outside the group. An actor can play a drag queen but never, and that is unequivocally never, can an actor BE a drag queen. And there’s a big difference. (I’m talking to you Swayze.)

You Learn Something New Everyday

I learned so much yesterday at massage school. It had nothing to do with massage.

Yesterday we had spa classes. That's were you learn to do things for people while they are lying on a table that they could do at home. You also learn that you can charge people 150$ to be exfoliated. (More than twice the cost of a massage for something that they could do for themselves.) I don't mean to harp on that. It's just not my cup of tea. But, being so aware that there are other people out there with other ideas actually put me in the right frame of mind to be taught some other lessons during the day.

Now our class has a real mix of people. There's the 19 year old mother, some older ex-corporate types, young, old, black, white, Korean American, male, female, gay, straight... (diverse but not evenly distributed mind you) So, yesterday during class we were observing a spa treatment on one of the teachers who was lying naked on a vichy shower table draped with towels. The class was lively and talkative and probably a bit louder than they should have been considering the clinic was open for business. That said, they weren't rowdy or at least that wasn't my perception.

One of my classmates didn't have the same perception. She's one of the ex-corporates. I'll call her M. M does energy work. She's my age (late 30's) and is going back to school to study massage after working for several years.

Well, M thought the class was being very disrespectful. She thought the other students really created a bad enviornment for the treatment and for the teacher on the table. (I don't discount what she felt, but I just want to say I didn't notice that at all.) At lunch she made a few comments about the morning to me and being really annoyed with the younger students in our class. The comment that really stood out was that it was that they just weren't mature. It occured to me then that she was angry with them for being what they are. Can 19 and 2o year olds to have the level of maturity of a 38 year old. Isn't it the same age old problem that people have always had? Wanting the world to be on the same wavelength that we are?

Anyway, what I learned from that is anger comes from within. I realized a need to love my classmates as they are. I realized a need to love M as she was at that moment.

That morning I had actually thought of trying to quite down the class a few times, but stopped myself. They weren't "out of control" and by shhing them I would have introduced conflict from my end. I let it go. I also let go when talking to M. She was valid in her feelings. I simply stated that I felt differently and then tried to understand her feelings. It was a very nice lesson and one that I almost didn't get. (It would have been easy to look at her with contempt for being uptight--but that wasn't what was going on. To say she was being uptight would have been a value judgement that had no meaning or use in the situation. It was just that there where these different thinkers at that time.)

The other lesson I learned is going to take more time to write about than I have this morning. But it was a really good one too. It involves all the old standards: God, evolution, monkeys, Adam and Eve, and people talking about these things. It was great. I'll tell it later.

The Wizard of Blah

My friends Amy (who I'm staying with in Atlanta) and Greg went to see the Wiz in Peidomont Park tonight. The hill there in the park was draped with folks. It was fun. We had some awesome chicken salad (mayo, chicken, grapes, walnuts, apple and vidalia onion--would have been better with some cilantro or basil thrown in but hey...) some chocolate cake, a pineapple mooncake that I bought from a chinese grocery on Buford Highway, and some pineapple. The food was much better than the movie.

Ok, let me preface: Amy has called me the "movie bitch" for years. She says I don't really like movies, that I just like to bitch about them. I don't think that's true. I just have high standards (or weird standards). But that said, the Wiz is truely a bad movie everyone can agree on.

First of all, if he weren't wearing a scarecrow outfit that featured his original nose Michael Jackson would be indistinguishable from Diana Ross. They speak the same, move the same, look the same. I think she had herself cloned.

Next, how many times can they ease on down the road. Sure it's a great song, but variety is the spice of life.

And then there's the long dance numbers with flashy sets and costumes. They do nothing to further the plot and serve the same purpose the fashion shows did in the old 1940's Hollywood movies--fluff and filler to show off capes lined in monkey fur. Unfortunatley Busby Burkely (sp) was dead at that point so the numbers are what they should be. (the last 20 minutes of the movie is dancing and Diana crying)

And finally (I could actually go on for hours) what's up with the Wiz curse? Richard Prior (the wiz) and Michael Jackson (the scarecrow) both caught on fire later in their careers. Is there some connection their? Did Nipsy, Diana, or Leana ever catch on fire? Enquiring minds want to know.

I saw the stage play and remember it being about the African American experience. The movie is Diana centric with no meaning what-s0-ever. If only she would catch on fire.

Next week is Ferris Bueler's Day Off. That sounds more like it.

Slippery Fish Mind

The second day of massage classes started with Ethics and since ethics is my middle name (in Chinese--seriously--it is my middle name) I was ready to go.

"Don't have sex on your massage table and don't have sex with your clients." Those were the absolutes taught today. Everything else falls into a grey area. I guess there goes my social life. (bu-dum-dum--ching) And that of course is just a joke.

Today went very well. From ethics we moved to body mechanics. We did some yoga, some grounding with your center of gravity. We practiced walking around massage tables with our knees bent. It was a very good day. Why? Well, I found it very meditative. I come to calmness of mind through the body. My awareness is very rooted in my sense of touch and movement. That's come out of meditation: Breath awareness, walking meditation, etc. I really came out of class with a charged energy level and a very positive feeling. And so we come to the fish.

After class I went to buy a printer at Best Buy, just one exit down from my school on I-285 in Atl. I thought it would be a quick jump but boy was I wrong. I was stuck in traffic and I litterally watched my mind go from calm serenity to tense frustration. It flopped like a fish from one side to the other in just a matter of half an hour and I feel so lucky to have been aware enough of what was going on to, well, know what was going on.

I believe deeply in karma--meaning cause and effect (not some cosmic next life generator). What goes on now conditions what follows. Emotions, thoughts are the result of what we are in contact with. Pleasure brings comfort and bliss and irritation brings the opposite. BUT...hmm. there's a but in here somewhere...

But, knowing is half the battle. Knowing that certain causes lead to certain effects allows you to sever the chain. When something happens the effects follow. Those effects then cause more effects and this repeats and repeats. Breaking the cycle is knowing when to insert causes that can bring you back to center. Adding deep breathing to frustration. Throwing some relaxation ontop of Tension. Theres a lot that can't be controlled but there's a lot that can.

Ok. That was a rambly one. Anyway, It's hard to hold onto a flopping fish. But isn't that what meditation is all about?

Reset Button

Today I went back to school. Well, actually, today I went to a different school. On Friday, I finished work at Savannah College of Art and Design. When I say finished I mean finished; I turned in my grades, my ID, my parking sticker and my keys. Goodbye ESL, hello...

Today (monday) I started school at the Atlanta School of Massage. Zip, Zap, Zam. It was a quick vacation. This has actually been in the plans for quite sometime. (Yes, for those of you who know me, MY plans; I do occasionally think things through, mull over them, delay them and finally execute, as opposed to the usual "Hey, It's Friday! Maybe I'll move to Asia tomorrow" type of plans that I'm noted for.)

Long story short: Left Taipei, moved home to Georgia, USA. Decided "Hmmm, I became an English teacher so I could travel. Now, I'm back. I'm not traveling so why the hell am I still teaching?" So, next came "What do I really want to do?" Followed by "I want to eat these donuts." Followed by "No, really." Followed by "Hey I want to travel." Ok, Ok, I know it's a circle and the logic (like the donuts) is full of holes but it happened (no donuts in Taiwan--at least not REAL donuts). So I decided to look into travel industry jobs. What could be better. After all, its a great industry to work for. (That's pre 9-11 thinking for you)

I researched, did everything right for once: pondered, weighed, calculated, looked at salary, evaluated and decided that being a flight attendant in Asia would be ideal. After all, I speak Chinese. I applied, tested, interviewed and was top of my interview group (actually second from the top). Yipee! My future was bright: one or two trips to Hong Kong or Beijing per month, per diem while on the ground for a few days, travel, excitement, Wow! All I had to do was get through training.

Turned out all I had to do was get TO training. Seems that something happened around 2000 where some planes hit a building or something. Remember that? My job went down in flames with them. (Of course, since that's all I lost I had a great day, unlike some...)

Well, as usual my backup plan was not so simple. Here's an example of "I'm moving to Asia in a week." Seriously. I did--back to Taiwan where I had lived and taught for five and a half years.

I was there for about a year and a half and then back to the states, to Savannah (to be with my patient partner), and to a job at Savannah College of Art and Design. All this time pondering what to do next to take me forward in my little life journey.

It was hard to really go there. After all, the one serious well-planned decision went from great to grisley in a matter of hours. Anyway, I did and massage school was it.

Then came the planning and saving and today it all came together. It's interesting: the first step on a journey that I've been walking for quite some time.

Actually, one of my classmates said something applicable today. (and I do her a disservice by chopping it up, throwing in some of my own nonsense and sewing it back together Frankenstein-like.) Life isn't making a scarf where each knit has it's pearl (that's my part), it's making a quilt (that's hers). We have all these scraps of material, all of these rags, these things we do and have done that don't seem to fit; but somehow they all come together as a whole.

Believe it or not, my quilt is finally comeing together. And I'm having a hell of a time sewing...