Jim Hubbard and Sarah Schulman have been collaborators for 25 years. In the mid-eighties, when Ed Koch was mayor of NYC and queers were fighting to pass a bill that would keep them from being denied housing and thrown out of restaurants, Jim was filming the queer movement and Sarah was covering it as a reporter of the gay newspaper the New York Native. The AIDS Coalition To Unleash Power (ACT-UP) was formed in February 1987 and both Jim and Sarah joined.  Jim and Sarah also founded the MIX Festival (The New York Queer Experimental Film Festival) that same year and the ACT-UP Oral History Project in 2001 where they have collected over 100 video interviews of ACT-UP members.

In Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration, David Wojnarowicz wrote: “A camera in some hands can preserve an alternate history.” We are very fortunate indeed that Jim and Sarah have worked so hard to preserve this history that differs sharply from the one told by mainstream media. The resultant feature-length documentary, United in Anger: A History of ACT-UP, is an inspirational film told from the point of view of the activists themselves and features rare archival footage of ACT-UP actions and meetings as well as interviews from the oral history project. Tickets for the February 16th world premiere go on sale today at the MoMA box office for the general public. (MoMA members may purchase their tickets online now.)

PQ: What made ACT-UP successful?

JH: I made a movie to answer this question and anyone who really wants to know what I think should go see United in Anger: A History of ACT-UP. The universal lesson of ACT-UP is that a small number of people who study the issues intensely, who understand them better than their adversaries and who are absolutely focused on their objectives can change the world.

SS: From ten years of studying ACT-UP and from my own experience as a member from 1987-1993, ACT-UP was successful because it allowed each person to act in a way that made sense for them. As a result there was an exhilarating simultaneity of action that resonated together, creating a larger force. ACT-UPers were desperate for success and so everyone was welcome. It was an activist organization- theory emerged organically from actions. Its aesthetic and language emerged organically from people’s lived experience. It was not derivative. There was no theoretical conversation that was not applied. Also, it attracted a particular kind of person, someone who was characteralogically unable to stand by in the face of injustice. There was enormous empathy, unity and group support, even though almost everyone told us that they’d felt like an outsider. People were valued for their strengths and hard work above all else. Many ACT-UPers did not know each other’s last names or what they did for a living. All social status was irrelevant. What mattered was how effective you were at your active task. These are great values, and I carry them to this day.

Many ACT-UPers did not know each other’s last names or what they did for a living. All social status was irrelevant. What mattered was how effective you were at your active task. These are great values, and I carry them to this day.
- Sarah Schulman

PQ: Within ACT-UP there were a range of actions from the 7,000 people action at St. Patrick’s cathedral to smaller actions. How long did it take to plan an action, from conception to execution, and what were the steps?

JH: It depended on the action. Complex demonstrations like Seize Control of the FDA and Storm the NIH took months of planning. Changing the CDC definition of AIDS took 4 years and consisted of many demonstrations and related events. Zaps could happen overnight. The Kiss-In at St. Vincent’s Hospital to protest the abuse of queer people and people with AIDS at the hospital was decided in minutes. There was a discussion of the problem and what the response should be. I remember it took less than half an hour and then everyone left the meeting and walked over to St. Vincent’s and took over the place.

Whatever the length of the planning the process, the steps were essentially the same:

1. Identify the problem.

2. Learn everything there was to know about the issue.

3. Decide on the best response.

4. Logistics: Do outreach to ensure the largest possible turnout, create chants, rent buses, make signs, etc., etc., etc.

5. Do Action!

Chrishaun “CeCe” McDonald is a young African American trans woman currently being charged with two counts second degree murder following an incident on June 5th, 2011. Her case has drawn international attention and sparked a groundswell of community support. CeCe spoke to PrettyQueer on December 12th.

To find out more about the case and learn how you can help visit: Support CeCe and FreeCeCe McDonald on facebook.

You can also sign the petition to free her.

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Tom: What has really stunned me about your story is the community support. It seems like people all over the country are paying attention to the case.

CeCe: Yes.

Tom: And I was wondering is that something that you feel is true from where you’re sitting? Do you feel that you‘re getting a lot of support and attention?

CeCe: Yes, actually I was just talking to some friends yesterday about having this opportunity. Because a lot of people, especially in the African-American community, tend to just take what is given to them when it comes to situations that put you in a predicament where you can’t, you know, think and actually consider things. You know what I’m saying? You’re pressured in jail. Jail will make somebody say, you know, “Whatever, just get me out of here.”

So all this support we have now, not just from the LGBT community, but also the Straight community and, you know, everybody now can have some understanding of the issues that Trans people face and that Gay people face. You know, how we are always singled out or just left with the worse possible decision from the pressure of jail. A lot of people don’t really hear about that or they just brush it off. You know what I am saying? like, “Oh! It is another queer person, whatever.” But it’s deeper than that because I am a person, too.

I feel like this opportunity gives me a voice and not just a voice for myself but for all the people who’ve been through this.

Tom: Well, that’s the amazing thing. Your story, the actual events, unfortunately it felt like another kind of tick-mark on the box.

CeCe: Yes

Tom: So that’s why it has been so amazing to me to watch, because it’s been so well covered and so well documented. It seems like you have a huge network of people who are helping. Why do you think your case was different? What’s different about you?

CeCe: Because I had people in my life from the beginning that felt that the situation couldn’t just go by without anything being said or without a fair trial. Because, like I said, many times when you are in jail, specifically with GLBT people, we tend to just take the deal that is given us. Do you know what I’m saying?

Tom: Yeah.

CeCe: And a lot people don’t have time to think it over and consider the consequence or the alternative. So the people in my life, they – from knowing me from moving up here and knowing my story, knowing my history, they felt that this was worth the fight. I’ve come so far in my life. Just to know that I might be going through this, but there are people behind me and that I do have options and that I don’t have to take what is given to me. I am glad that I have that I have all these people in my life because at the moment when that happened I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do and I was just a wreck. Luckily I had those people there to piece me back together and to give me strength and tell me how to handle this situation.

Tom: So who were these people? Can you name names, like just the two or three most important people who changed the circumstance for you?

CeCe: One person, of course, was a case manger of mine. Her name is Abbey Beasley and she used to work at a non-profit organization called SafeZone. I used to go there when I was younger to, you know, get on my feet and look for school and for work and she was my permanent manager until the time when I was too old to have a case manager and be there. But she stayed in my life afterwards and our friendship and our connection grew so much closer. So, you know, when she heard the story, she got everyone involved.

Tom: That’s amazing. So that’s someone who had previously been a service provider and then became a friend. Are there other friends that are just people you know from, like, your social life that have been people who have been really active in it? Where was your network of support, where‘d that come from?

CeCe: My support came mainly from my family.

Tom: Your family?

CeCe: Yes, mainly from my mom. She doesn’t live in the state, all my family stays in Chicago, but I keep in contact with my mom. And they were the people who gave me the inspiration to keep pushing and keep fighting, you know, keep faith and just stay focused.

I am most definitely glad that I have such a wide variety of people in my life right now that’s supporting me, not just my family, but the organizations and the support from people at other states. It gives me the motivation and the inspiration to, you know, have a voice and to fight. I can be the voice for a lot of people right now and that’s my main objective. I want people to understand that this is an issue and that, you know, our society needs to change so that everyone can live freely and happily. Everyone has their own life to live and I’m just trying to live mine just like everybody else, you know?

As a femme trans woman usually attracted to other femme women, I am generally welcomed in spaces designated as ‘women and trans,’ and I have no shortage of queer cis woman friends, with many of whom I share a playful flirtation.  But what I usually keep to myself is this: what I experience in these respects sometimes feels closer to tolerance than acceptance.

I am invited to more formal social functions, yet I often find myself outside the conversation, feeling awkward about my presence at the end of the table.  My experience as a trans woman is often the most immediate story I have to share; yet as the other women nearby nod politely before changing the subject, I sometimes get the feeling I have only managed to other myself by sharing it.  Unsurprisingly, this situation is not so conducive to meeting potential partners.  And anyways, I sometimes get the feeling that my body does not have the same type of desirability.

Perhaps worse, there are moments when desire is expressed towards me in a context that I would prefer it not be expressed (more about that in a moment).

Previous to my transition, I was pretty deep in hiding.  As a quirky intellectual-type with a good sense of humor I did attract women, but I often lacked the confidence to recognize attraction, much less act on it.  And anyways it felt strange when others showed interest in my outwardly masculinized form.

Fortunately, as my physical body evolved during transition so did my confidence.  And while I think my personality changed little, in the end I became the opposite of my pre-transition self in one respect: where previously I had been more timid, today I am forward and flirtatious (and good at making you laugh!).  Generally dating is a bit more pleasant, and I do feel more involved in the game.

However, there are moments when I wonder if there wasn’t some quick saturation point I should have expected to encounter.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that sex isn’t available.  I actually turn down many who aren’t willing to share intimacy on terms that seem equitable to me.  A good illustration of this point occurred recently on a dating site I use: a woman wrote to me a few months back with a great deal of interest based on my profile.  She came on a bit strong for me, but I try to be open so I put in the effort of corresponding.  After about three or four quite long messages I decided to disclose my trans status, just to avoid wasting time in case that would turn out to be a hang-up; unsurprisingly, I never heard from her again.  While there is nothing so unusual about this, the fact that she was an academic with a Ph.D. in Social Policy and a Masters in gender studies had led me to believe she might be more open.

However, soon after I received an odd message from a second woman who was unusually forward and seemed to be looking for something specific.  She insisted that I provide a description of my body while making it clear she was interested in a no strings sexual encounter, and further hoped she might eventually take me home for a three-way with her male partner.  While I think we all get these kinds of messages occasionally, I noticed that these two women had visited my profile within a few minutes of each other, suggesting that the first woman probably tipped the second off about my trans status.

Put another way, once I revealed that I was trans I instantly ceased to be a viable romantic partner and instead became a potential fuck-toy; the fact that the second woman further insisted that I describe my body in detail almost screamed, “What have you got for us between your legs, tranny?!”

Indeed, it’s not unusual for me to hear back on conversations in which one cis woman will respond, “Oh, so you’re into kink” when another cis woman acknowledges she has previously dated trans women (including myself), implying that merely viewing a body like mine as sexually desirable is outside the bounds of ordinary human intimacy.

Hence I find myself in an unpleasant conundrum: de-sexed in polite lesbian society, yet hypersexualized at the margins (preferably behind closed doors, it would seem).  Caught somewhere between untouchable and walking kink is a lonely place for any woman to live.

It is for these reasons, and more, that a group of trans women activists here in Toronto (with support from Planned Parenthood and an amazing cis woman Kate Klein) put together a recent workshop that was titled, “No more apologies: Queer trans and cis women, coming/cumming together!”  The idea of the workshop was to provide an opening point for a larger dialogue about trans woman inclusion in queer women’s spaces/communities and social settings.

On the one hand, we addressed the manner in which trans women and cis women fight many of the same battles, as traditional sexism targets us all socially (among other ways), while misogyny undermines our common womanhood and humanity.  On the other hand, we also addressed the various ways in which cissexism divides our communities from within.  For example, trans-misogyny specifically dehumanizes trans women while further serving to alienate trans and cis women from one another, when we should otherwise be natural allies (if not lovers!).

Indeed, three key points we developed to describe the motivations for the workshop vis-a-vis the queer women’s communities were:

• Because trans inclusion means more than just saying “women and trans people” in our mission statements.
• Because welcoming trans women into our spaces is not the same as welcoming them into our beds.
• Because our actions are speaking louder than our words.

To be clear, our intentions in the workshop were not to question anyone’s attraction.  However, there is no question that social context and social conditioning inform sexual desire.  And given the number of times that I have lost a cis woman’s interest—which at times has been accompanied by outright disrespect—precisely at the moment that my status as a trans woman has been revealed betrays the fact that crude social anxieties often play a role (think “how will my friends react,” or the particularly silly “am I still lesbian if I sleep with her?”).

It is with this hands-off acceptance of trans women in mind that one of our organizers, Drew Deveaux, proposed the “cotton ceiling;” that is, the idea that queer acceptance of trans women often proceeds only to a point (that saturation point I mentioned previously).

However, there are other dynamics at play as well.  For example, another project organizer, Morgan Page, has previously written about trans acceptance in ‘queer and trans’ spaces, and how this often essentially means acceptance for trans men exclusively.  Personally, I like to think that the situation in this regard might be improving here in Toronto, and that trans men and trans women are at least more likely to work together these days.  But while leaning against the wall at a party or a club, watching while masculine spectrum individuals get most of the attention, it’s not difficult to see Morgan’s point.

Overall, I think the workshop was a huge success; many of us here in Toronto are still reflecting on it, and some have already begun proposing the next events (with most of those proposals coming from cis women!).  With that in mind, I sincerely hope that No More Apologies might provide a breaking point for a larger dialogue about trans woman inclusion, not only in queer women’s social settings but also in queer women’s politics.

In the meantime, if you’re a beautiful woman and I meet you on the street, there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll flirt with you and try to make friends.  If you show interest, I promise I’ll play it off real sexy, like it’s no big deal.  But I admit it: deep down what I’d really like to think is that if we share sexual intimacy, then maybe we could do something real kinky:

Talk.

Yeah, that sounds nice.