As I wrote about in June, thecuriousclit is going through a transition to become more of a community place! I want this to be a space where many stories about sexuality & gender are shared — not just mine. So in addition to the podcast episodes, thecuriousclit will be including poems & short essays that are written by other folks, along with an accompanying written interview with the author.
I’m so excited for this first one, which is a poem written by my friend A.R Sutherland. When I read her collection of poems last year, this was one of my favorites. This poem and their answers in the interview gave me all sorts of feels, and I hope it resonates with you too :)
You can read the poem & their answers to the interview questions down below, and to listen to her read the poem out loud, see the “Article Voiceover” section above.
What inspired this poem?
I was haunted by the title of the film, First Girl I Loved, ever since the movie came out in 2016. After reading spoilers for the film, I put off watching it for a few years, but I never could get over the title. There was a newness implied by the word “first” that struck me. This was a story of discovery, and one that ended; this girl was the first and not the last. Once I finally got around to watching the movie, I was surprised by how much it upset me. It got me thinking about how there are so few queer movies that have ever resonated with me, and how even fewer depicted my experience as a queer teenager. So I wanted to write about that dissonance, which evolved into me writing about the first girl I ever fell for.
One of the themes of this poem that I loved is the way that stories (books, films, poems, etc.) about queer women that are directed by men differ from the stories written and directed by queer women. How do you think that stories about queer women that are created by men are different than those written by queer women? What impact do you think that consuming these stories written by men can have on queer women/non-binary folks in terms of conceptualizing their own identities?
I think that intent makes the biggest difference—what are these (predominantly cis and straight) men intending to do with these stories about queer women? Carol (2015), for instance, was directed by a gay man, who I think did his best to keep the story authentic. Blue is the Warmest Color (2013), on the other hand, strayed significantly. Both movies were based on stories written by queer women. Generally, I think the key problem we run into with men directing stories about queer women is that we see our stories being told by someone who can sympathize but not empathize, and in the process, these stories feel gimmicky. Or intentionally risqué—something thrilling for a film but not so practical in real life.
As for queer women and nonbinary folks trying to figure out their own identities, I think there can be a lot of confusion and guilt. We’re not supposed to enjoy the “male gaze” but what happens if/when we do? Sometimes the sex scenes in these films just seem unrealistic and laughably bad, but sometimes it can be confusing when we find out it’s actually a little hot! And how are we supposed to frame our own stories when we can’t unsee what has been set as the “standard?” It can be challenging to break away from that mold, and even more challenging to figure out who you are when you don’t see yourself reflected onscreen.
How do you think that stories about queer people shaped your own experience of understanding and expressing your identity? Were there any stories that were particularly impactful (in a positive or negative way)?
Stories about queer people made me feel seen. Even if I couldn’t relate to the main characters, I still loved seeing these relationships depicted because they made me feel like there was space for me too. But I’m a Cheerleader (1999) was the first gay film I ever watched which was truly the biggest blessing for my sixteen year old queer self—it was funny, campy, and authentic. The love story between Megan and Graham moved me in a way I didn’t know I could be moved. I still say it’s one of the best lesbian films of all time, and I don’t think it will ever lose that ranking.
Despite the backlash it gets, Glee meant a lot to me as a teenager in the early 2010s. Brittany and Santana’s relationship was the first queer TV relationship I got to see develop over multiple seasons and have a happy ending. Skins (UK) also featured a queer relationship that I adored and was so thrilled to watch over and over (Emily and Naomi’s episodes were always the best) but the ending of their reboot was devastating. I pretend it didn’t happen—as I do with a lot of TV shows.
What kind of queer stories would you like to see more of in the world?
I’d love to see more diversity. So many of the most “popular” lesbian films predominately feature white, thin, and hyperfeminine women. I’d also love to see more range in terms of genre. I’m a huge fan of Sci-Fi and Fantasy, yet most queer films we get take place in contemporary settings or period pieces. (Thankfully, the book world is scratching that itch, but I will not rest till we get a TV or film adaptation of Priory of the Orange Tree.)
I’d also love to see more experimentation—there are so many untold queer stories and new ways to tell them (look at Tamsyn Muir’s approach in The Locked Tomb series). I think (optimistically, considering the WGA strike) that we are in an exciting age where there are so many new stories to be explored, and it’s time to take more creative risks with them!
A.R. Sutherland is a writer who earned her MFA from the University of San Francisco. A fan of etymology, sonnets, and cats, she currently lives in the Austin area.
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