I watched the movie A Star Is Born starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper last night. I’m an old person and believe it or not, I never actually saw Lady Gaga perform before. She was not what I expected, at least not until she got rich and famous and plastic and hypersexualized and pornified. Bradley Cooper is not half bad as an actor and if he was really doing the singing and playing his part required, then I’m rather impressed with that. Overall it was corny and hokey and sentimental and not a terrible way to pass a couple of evening hours before bed.
But the reason I’m bothering to write a blog post about this movie is because of my feelings about the tranz actors playing the drag roles which are obligatory in every film about show biz.
Back in the Jurassic, one of the feminist standard books that women of my generation were reading was the book Daughters of Copper Woman by Anne Cameron.
In this retelling of Northwest Coast Native myths entrusted to her by Aboriginal women of Vancouver Island, Anne Cameron weaves together the lives of mythic and imaginary characters. This remarkable work of fiction offers a message of sisterhood and hope for women of all races, ages and countries.
One of the stories that stuck with me was the one about the women who acted as “sacred clowns” , walking behind people who were too puffed up, taking themselves too seriously, and making fun of them. This helped to create social cohesion.
I was generous enough at one time to see the drag phenomenon as a kind of clowning act, serving the function of revealing human foibles and folly, lampooning traditional sex role behavior. I watched Torch Song Trilogy by Harvey Fierstein with my teenaged daughter with the idea that I was teaching her about tolerance for gay men. I thought drag was harmless fun,
But now that I know what I know about autogynephilia and Trans Rights Activism ,
I found that I was rather appalled at the performances of these men. I know these men despise women and that this cross-dressing (medical eugenics/sterilization/steroid poisoning/castration/plastic boobs) practice is an obsessive sexual addiction on a par with necrophilia. These men have a sexual fantasy in their minds about what femininity is and they have literally transformed women’s bodies into collections of dead objects to be pasted on their own bodies. They are not just “fun gay boys” as I once believed.
These sick men are grotesque clowns. But much worse than ordinary clowns who understand it’s just paint and all in jest. Pantomiming women’s slavery is just not fucking funny anymore. And imagine this: Imagine forcing people to acknowledge and respect your innate clown IDENTITY and getting laws passed (funded by uber-wealthy clown capitalists) to give clowns special legal protections and to give all clowns complete free access to all public and private spaces, everywhere, at all times, no questions asked. Heck, you don’t even have to put on a clown suit or show that you belong to a clown union. We are expected to instinctively know they are clowns or face prosecution for hate speech if we mis-clown them. Oh! – and the public must pay for clown paint, clown drugs and clown surgeries.